Charade
by ClosetObsession
Summary: "...That was the worst fake break up I've ever heard." "It wasn't fake," she said. "I really am breaking it off." "You really are breaking off a fake relationship? Do you even hear yourself?" he asked incredulously. -Claire and Owen pretend to be a couple to fend off exes at a holiday party. They then have to deal with word spreading around the park and Claire wanting to save face.
1. Chapter 1

The annual New Year's Eve party for the park's employees was held that year in the restaurant on the top floor of one of the island's hotels. There were a lot of parties throughout the year for many of the holidays, but this was the only one that was put together by Masrani's personal team and invited employees from every department.

It was quite the ordeal - very glitzy and glamorous. As such, when Claire Dearing stepped into the room in her gold sequined covered cocktail dress and black stilettos, she didn't stand out quite as much as the dress seemed to warrant. Many of the women were wearing similarly flashy dresses. Some, men included, had also adorned their heads with glittery headbands and crowns that boasted the coming year.

After saying her hellos to board members and some of the more elite party-goers, and of course, Mr. Masrani himself, she made her way to the bar. Her steps only faltered slightly as the jacket-clad broad shoulders of the park's very own _raptor whisperer_ crossed her path, heading toward the bar as well. She straightened her back and shoulders as she came up to stand next to him as he ordered.

"Rum and coke," he ordered; she tried very hard not to roll her eyes.

"And for you, Miss Dearing?" the bartender asked.

Owen seemed to jump in surprise at her name. She ignored him.

"What champagne do you have?"

"Dom Perignon and Bollinger - rose."

"I'll have the Bollinger."

"Excellent choice, ma'am."

As the bartender turned around to prepare their drinks, she saw Owen roll his own eyes.

"Problem, Mr. Grady?" she asked tightly.

"Not at all," he said with a smirk. "Bollinger - excellent choice," he added in a mocking whisper.

"Well, we can't all have the refined palate for _rum and coca-cola_ ," she retorted.

Before he could respond a woman, smaller than Claire, came up between them, clutching Owen's arm and standing close enough to press her chest to his bicep.

"Order me a drink," the woman insisted. "Do you remember my favorite?"

Owen pretended to think for a moment, craning his head back and squinting at the ceiling. "Was it...vodka martini? Shaken, not stirred. Not wait - that's James Bond."

The woman laughed, still not letting go of his arm. "You really don't remember?"

"Oh no, I remember," he assured. He turned to the bartender, "One shot of Fireball Whiskey, my good man."

The woman finally disentangled herself from his arm, swatting at it instead. "Long Island iced tea," she ordered instead. The bartender nodded and placed Owen's and Claire's drink before them which drew the other woman's attention to her.

"Claire Dearing!" she exclaimed, impressed. "Wow, you look fantastic!"

"Thank you," she said kindly. "As do you."

The woman let her hands travel along the black satin dress that clung to her slight curves. "Thanks! It's nice to have an excuse to dress up and not be in cargos with baby triceratops drool all over me," she said, laughing good-naturedly.

The bartender placed her glass on the bar top which she took with a smirk at Owen. "See you later, Grady." Owen smiled at her as she strutted away.

"Which one is she?" Claire asked him quietly.

"I'm pretty sure her name is Amber. Or Erin," he said, his brow furrowing as he concentrated.

Claire laughed lightly and shook her head, not bothering to hide her eye-rolling this time.

"Problem, Miss Dearing?" Owen asked, repeating her from just moments ago.

"No," she said, shaking her head, smiling. "I only hope that one day I might be swept off my feet by a man with your keen sense of romance."

"All you have to do is ask, Claire," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "I'm available for sweeping, as it turns out."

" _You?_ You mean you're single? The Great and Grand, Master of Romance, Owen Grady is single?" she taunted.

"That's right. Act fast and I could be yours," he said with a laugh before taking a sip of his drink.

"Well, I appreciate the offer, but as it turns out, I have standards," she said, sweet smile in place.

" _Ouch_ ," he said with a slight grimace. He quickly shrugged it off. "That's okay, though. I'm sure there's at least one lady in here that I can turn my charms to." He turned to the crowd, eyes traveling over the guests.

"Well, be sure to send my condolences when you find her." Claire turned to leave.

"She wasn't wrong, you know," he said quickly, grabbing her attention and forcing her to turn around. "You do look amazing."

Claire's impassive expression faltered at his flattery. "She said fantastic," she pointed out stubbornly.

Owen smiled and stood up a little straighter. "I'm not going to steal her adjectives. I prefer to be original when complimenting a beautiful woman."

Claire stared, somewhat dumbfounded at his words. Their relationship thus far had been one of teasing and mocking each other. On some level, Claire hated him. And she made his life hell enough she suspected he hated her too. They never gave each other compliments unless there was a backhand involved. So his flirtatious words gave her pause.

His ever-growing smile made her snap out of her reverie.

"See?" he said smugly. "I can be damn charming when I want to be."

"Enjoy your evening, Mr. Grady," she said finally with a slow smile and a warning glare.

She turned to leave but stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Daniel McPherson making his way toward her, eyeing her as he greeted the throngs of people around him, thankfully slowing him down.

Claire spun back around and swiftly retraced the few steps back to the bar.

" _Shit_ ," she muttered.

"What?" Owen asked, alarmed at what to him seemed like uncharacteristic behavior.

"Daniel McPherson," she said simply.

"Who the hell is Daniel McPherson?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.

" _Don't look!_ " she hissed. "He's the head of HR. And my ex."

She and Daniel had gotten together late last year and things had ended between them a few months ago.

"You've actually dated someone who works here?" Owen asked incredulously. "How did I not hear of that?"

"Will you stop? Please?" she said, aggravated. "God - why? _Why_ did it have to be _you_ next to me when this happened?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. What have you done to piss off Karma recently?"

"Can you stop enjoying this so much?"

"No," he said with a smile and a shake of his head. "I don't think I can. So what, did you not think he was coming?"

"I was hoping I could avoid him. Or maybe feign being blind and deaf when he was around," she muttered petulantly.

"Things ended badly?" Owen asked. "He break your heart?"

She suddenly really hated Owen Grady. She really hated that she'd allowed their childish antics of taunting and mocking to continue. She should have put her foot down long ago. Then maybe he wouldn't feel like he could talk to her like that.

"He's not a very nice person," she admitted with a sigh. Her back and neck were so tense. She knew he'd be behind her any second now.

"What he'd do?" Owen asked, curiously.

Claire turned to look at him, surprised to see that he wasn't smiling but rather looked genuinely concerned now.

"We broke up. We both said some things. He called me a bitch and stuck up. Told me I don't know how to have any fun. Every horrible thing I'm sure you've thought and said about me. He just said it all to my face. So no; I don't want to see him. Or talk to him." She stood a little straighter, willing the shame and embarrassment she felt to fade away before Daniel showed up.

"Okay," Owen said. He downed what was left of his drink and straightened his jacket. "Follow my lead."

"What?" she asked, confused. But at that moment she felt the looming presence behind her.

"Claire?" Daniel's voice rang out. She turned around and smiled brightly, hoping it wasn't too obviously fake.

"Daniel," she greeted. "How nice of you to be able to make it."

"You look great, Claire," Daniel said. His eyes appraised her shorter-than-usual dress. "Really. Seems like you've been doing well."

"Yes, well, I -"

"Hey, babe, do want to freshen up your drink before we find a seat?" Owen asked, interrupting her.

Her eyes widened considerably at the pet name he used. For a moment she didn't realize he was speaking to her. Then his arm snaked around her waist and his warm body was pressed against hers.

"I'm- uh...sure," she stuttered, handing him her still nearly full champagne flute.

Owen turned around and placed the glass on the bar, keeping one hand latched onto Claire's waist. When he turned back around, he extended his hand in greeting to Daniel.

"Hi, there," he said politely. "Owen Grady."

"Oh, right. The, uh, raptor guy," Daniel said as they shook hands. "Daniel McPherson. HR."

"HR? Wow," Owen laughed. "God, I'd kill myself if I had to sit behind a desk all day. I'm surprised this one can handle it as much as she does," he said with an apparent affectionate hug around Claire's shoulders. "This wild thing," he continued with a wink.

"Wild?" Daniel asked, now smiling down at Claire. "You sure you've got the right girl?"

"Oh, yeah," Owen agreed emphatically. "You should see this one with my raptors. She's got Echo and Charlie eating out of her hand."

"Well, so long as they don't eat my hand," Claire said, finally speaking up.

"Never," Owen said. He leaned in and kissed the hair covering her temple. And happily, she only tensed for a second. "I'd never let that happen."

"Your champagne, miss," the bartender said.

Owen turned around again and grabbed Claire's glass for her. He then pulled out a bill from his jacket pocket and handed it discreetly to the bartender.

"Thank you, sir."

"No, thank you. Make sure to keep her drinks coming. There's nothing better in the world than a champagne-drunk Claire Dearing," he said with a teasing wink.

"Very funny," she muttered.

"So how long has this been going on?" Daniel asked, wiggling a finger at the pair of them. "I'm surprised I never heard about it."

"Oh, well you know Claire. She likes to keep things professional. Not much of a gossip," Owen explained.

"Right," Claire agreed dumbly.

"Yeah," Owen said, sighing. "So, officially any way, it's only been about a month or so. But we've been dancing around each other for about six months."

"Six months?" Daniel said dryly. Claire felt a small twinge of guilt knowing he was thinking that she might have cheated on him. But mostly, if she were perfectly honest, she felt pretty smug at the dull look of surprise on his face.

"Yeah, she came to the paddock one day in this green skirt and, God, I couldn't take my eyes off of her," Owen said.

She had a green skirt. She had a _favorite_ green skirt that she thought accentuated her features quite nicely. And if she remembers correctly, she has worn that very skirt when visiting the raptor paddock before. And she's pretty sure she's remembering correctly because she almost always tries to wear something that accentuates _something_ of hers when she's schedule to stop by there because she likes the way Owen's eyes feel as they watch her.

And if anyone ever accused her of that she's deny it to her last breath.

"Not to mention how funny she is," Owen continued. "I like my women quick-witted."

"You are a sharp one," Daniel admitted to her, smiling softly.

"Well, I have to be to keep up in this business," she explained proudly. She tilted her head to look up at Owen and he looked down at her. A smile tugged at both their lips as they continued their little game.

"Well, best of luck to you both," Daniel finally said after a few seconds of silence. "Great to see you again, Claire," he said a bit wistfully, if she wasn't mistaken.

As he walked away from them, Owen's arm withdrew from around her back and they separated a few inches.

"You're welcome," he said.

"I can't believe you did that," she laughed. She tilted her head back and took a long gulp of her champagne.

"He's totally second-guessing himself right now. He's thinking you're some hot, interesting little firecracker and what do I have that brings it out of you that he doesn't," he analyzed.

"Must be that Owen Grady charm," she said with a dramatic sigh.

"Don't act like you aren't affected," he teased.

She took another sip of her drink and eyed him suspiciously. "So," she said, "my green skirt, huh?"

He smiled cheekily. "Yeah. That was a hell of an outfit."

She smiled sweetly. "Well, now that I know you like it, I guess I should burn it."

"I have a much more fun way of destroying it if that's what you want to do; but it requires you putting it on and coming over to my place late at night."

"I'm not following," she said dumbly, but she smiled coyly.

"Oh, I think you have an idea," he said. He ordered another round of rum and coke from the bartender.

"I'm sure I don't. Perhaps I need to to spell it out for me," she suggested.

He smiled and chuckled. "Tell you what: just do it. Put it on, come over, and I'll walk you through it _real slow_ ," he said in a low, gravelly tone.

"What if I want it fast?" she breathed.

"Oh, no, Miss Dearing," he said softly. The bartender sat down his new glass and Owen took a quick sip. "With you, I'll make it last all night."

They stared each other down, both smirking. Claire could see his pupils were dilated and she had a feeling hers were as well.

"You have a good night, Claire," he said finally.

"You, too," she replied.

He turned to leave but she saw him stop after taking a step away.

"Owen," another woman's voice greeted.

"Lisa! Hey!" he greeted with such enthusiasm it could only be fake. "I didn't know you would be here. I thought you were covering for Ian?"

"I was. And then I got Erin to cover for me," Lisa said.

"Erin? Oh, so Erin's _not_ here tonight?" he asked slowly before turning around to Claire who was watching his exchange in amusement. "So that must have been Amber earlier." Claire nodded in understanding.

"Amber?" Lisa asked. "Figures. You're single for five minutes and she jumps on you."

"It's been a month, Lees," Owen corrected. "And she didn't jump on me."

"Whatever, Grady," Lisa said flippantly. "This is just like you. We break up, and then you can't stand to see me getting close Lincoln, so you try to hook up with one of my best friends."

"Hey! I-"

"We should find our seats, don't you think, _honey_?" Claire interrupted suddenly. She stepped up next to him and pretended to wipe some dust off his shoulder.

Owen stared at her for a moment before reacting. "Yes, of course. Sorry, _sweetheart_. Have you met Lisa before? She's one of the tour guides."

"I don't believe I have," Claire said. She felt Owen's arm make its way back around her waist so she moved a little closer to him and rested her left hand on his shoulder while extending her right to Lisa. "Claire Dearing."

"Yeah, I- I know," Lisa said, confused. "I mean, yes, of course, I know who you are. You run the park. I didn't know you two...knew each other," she said slowly, but still polite.

"Oh yes, Owen and I have been together for a little while now."

"Thats...great," she said with a great deal of strain. At Claire's challenging look she quickly explained, "I just wouldn't have pegged you two as an obvious couple."

"Well, it's hard to resist his charm," Claire said, smiling teasingly at Owen. "Plus he's the head of a pack of velociraptors; that kind of strength and power is..." She sighed heavily and he smirked at her as he waited for her to finish. "...knee-weakening."

 _Knee-weakening?_ He mouthed, brows raised higher than she's ever seen. _Wow_.

"Good thing I've got ahold of you, then," he said smoothly.

"Indeed," she said with a small laugh. "It was nice to meet you Lisa, but Owen and I should really find our seats. I'm sure Mr. Masrani wants us to sit at his table."

"Right, don't want to keep him waiting," Owen agreed. He waved goodbye to his ex as Claire grabbed his arm and pulled him along behind her.

"That...was awesome," he said as he fell in step with her. "Clearly, McPherson never saw you do something like that."

She smiled and let go of his hand as they neared Masrani's table, turning to face him.

"Well, I owed you," she explained. She glanced around at the crowd, avoiding his eyes.

"Knee-weakening," he said, sounding amazed and the mischief in his eyes told her he was making fun of her.

"Green skirt," she countered, cocking her head to the side.

"Ah, yes, the green skirt," he said happily. "Very few things in this world are as wonderful as that green skirt."

"Except maybe champagne-drunk me, apparently," she reminded him.

"Oh, right! Speaking of which," he used two fingers to lift her glass closer to her lips. "Drink up," he said.

She laughed and turned away from him, slightly, out of his reach.

"Claire," Masrani greeted as he approached them. "It's so nice to see you enjoying yourself."

She smiled shyly at her boss and her gaze drifted briefly to Owen.

"Is this your boyfriend?" Masrani asked, grinning at Owen.

He and Claire exchanged a quick look, hesitating, before Owen stared laughing.

"No, sorry," Claire said, chuckling a little herself. "This is Owen Grady."

"It's nice to finally meet you, sir," Owen greeted, holding out his hand.

"Oh yes! You work with our raptors," Masrani said excitedly. He recognized Owen's name immediately. "So are you two together...or...?" he asked, glancing back and forth between him and Claire.

"If anyone asks," Owen said. "For tonight, yes."

"It's a long story," Claire said hurriedly.

Masrani's eyebrows rose and he smiled pleasantly. "I see. Well consider your secret safe with me." He gave Claire a playful wink. "Well, Owen, I'd love to have you join us at our table. I don't get to come by my island as much as I'd like and I'd like to hear how the raptor program is doing."

And the night would have ended harmlessly, Claire was certain of it, if it hadn't been the New Year's Eve party. She and Owen would have been able to leave and go back to their normal lives after. But as is tradition, at midnight on New Year's Eve, couples kiss.

As the countdown started, Masrani asked if Owen was going to kiss her.

 _Eight..._

 _Seven..._

"I keep things professional," Claire warned him.

"Yeah, but I don't," he said, grinning.

 _Four..._

 _Three..._

"Don't you dare, Grady!"

 _One..._

He dared.

As shouts of "Happy New Year!" exploded throughout the room, Owen grabbed Claire's face between his two rough hands and quickly pressed his lips to hers. It only lasted a few seconds, not long enough for Claire to react. And when he pulled away, still holding her face, he was smiling brightly.

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," he laughed.

"I hate you," she sighed. She laughed a little anyway.

* * *

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 **Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

After a day off of work, the morning of January second Claire stood in her closet, holding her favorite green skirt in her hand, smiling to herself as she eyed the article, debating on whether she should wear it that day or not. And later that day, as she was unexpectedly driving over to the raptor paddock, she was incredibly happy she had decided to wear a navy dress instead.

She could still feel the shock and embarrassment over the conversation she'd had only ten minutes ago with her assistant.

 _"Why didn't you tell me?" Zara had asked her when Claire came back from her morning meeting._

 _"Tell you what?"_

 _"Everyone's talking about you and the raptor-man. I didn't know you had started seeing him," Zara said._

 _"Wait, what?" Claire asked, feeling the panic rise in her chest. "What are people saying?"_

 _"That you were all over each other at the New Year's Eve party. God, I can't believe I missed it!" she exclaimed unhappily._

 _"All over each other?" Claire said in disgust. "Oh, God. I think I'm going to be sick..."_

 _She made her way inside her office, Zara following behind her. She sat at her desk and placed her head in her hands._

 _"How long have you been together?" Zara asked her with morbid curiosity._

 _Claire was silent as she thought things through. She couldn't just come out and say that it had been a lie. What if it got back to Daniel? She'd never live that down. She could hear the rumors now...something about her begging for Owen's help, or maybe that she'd even paid him to do it. She'd be the laughing stalk of the island. She'd be lucky if she ever got a date again._

 _So what was there to do but continue the lie? She'd act like they were together, but she'd end it._

 _Yes, she'd end it. Today. Right now, in fact._

 _"I have to go," Claire said suddenly. She rose from her chair and grabbed her keys. "Try to push back my next meeting by an hour or so. I'll have lunch at my desk if I need to so we can still fit everything in."_

 _"Where are you going?" Zara called after her as she stormed out._

So yes, she was very happy she hadn't worn that green skirt because the last thing she needs when talking to him today will be his flirting.

She pulled to a sudden stop outside the gates of the enclosure and spotted Owen walking down the stairs from the bridge, wiping his hands on a grimy towel.

"Hey!" he greeted with a smile as he saw her approaching. "There's my favorite fake girlfriend!"

"Shh!" she shushed him. "We need to talk," she said urgently. "People actually think we're together."

"Yeah," he responded with a scoffed laugh. "I know. Connor Elks asked me about us this morning."

"What did you say?" she asked, fretting that he'd already spread the truth.

"Well, I don't like Connor much," Owen admitted, his expression now serious. "So I told him to fuck off."

She ignored his crude language. "Okay, listen. We need to fix this. We can't actually be fake dating, so..." She took a deep breath and stood up much straighter. Enunciating, she said loudly, "I'm breaking up with you!"

Owen's eyes widened and he quickly pulled her aside, glancing around to see who was listening. And it seemed there were quite a few people milling about.

"It's not working out!" Claire continued. "I think we should see other people!"

"Jesus, Claire!" he hissed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm breaking up with you," she said simply, her voice back to its normal volume.

"Yeah, well you're doing a pretty sucky job at it. That was the worst fake break up I've ever heard."

"It wasn't fake. I really am breaking it off."

"You really are breaking off a fake relationship? Do you even hear yourself?" he asked incredulously. "What's the big deal, anyway? So what if people think we're together? We know we aren't."

"I don't want people getting the wrong idea about me," she answered. Her response seemed to take him by surprise.

"And what idea would that be?" he asked slowly, cautiously.

"I don't know." She shrugged and her cheeks turned a slight pink. "That I get around."

"Why would they think that of you dating me but not of you dating that McPherson guy?" he asked indignantly. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head slightly. She realized she had offended him.

"Look, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. There's nothing wrong with you-"

"You're right. There's not. I'm a great guy. You'd be lucky to be dating me," he said stubbornly.

She let out a patient sigh. "I'm sure I would. But I'm not looking to date you. I'm not looking to date _anyone_ at the moment. So can we both agree to stop this silly fake relationship? We can tell people we went out a few times, but it didn't pan out. To save face," she added.

Owen was silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Alright. Fine. We went out. We broke up," he said finally, agreeing with the story. "I think people are going to find it hard to believe that we ended so fast though, given how nauseatingly happy we were at the party the other night." He smirked playfully.

"Well, maybe I caught you cheating," she said tightly.

"You don't want to be the woman scorned" he denied. "Maybe you weren't putting out."

"You don't want to be _that_ guy," she countered.

He grinned briefly. "Alright. We just didn't work out. Simple as that."

"The details aren't anyone's business," she concurred with a stiff nod.

"Exactly."

"Good. Well, thanks." She smiled softly before offering her hand to him.

"Always a pleasure, Claire," he said quietly, smirking a little.

"Likewise, Owen."

When she got back behind the wheel of her Mercedes, she sighed heavily with gratitude. That was easier than she had been expecting. Given their past, she fully expected Owen to drag this out and embarrass her as much as he could before he finally gave in. Maybe he wasn't as childish as she'd always thought.

No. He was. He was the biggest, most annoying _man-child_ she'd ever had the misfortune of meeting.

That afternoon, after all her meetings, lunch at her desk, and explaining to Zara that she and Mr. Grady were no longer an item, said man-child made an appearance.

" _Miss Dearing,_ " Zara called, buzzing in on the office phone. " _You have someone here to see you_." She said it slowly and with a bit of trepidation.

"Who is it?" Claire asked, confused. She didn't have anyone left on her calendar for the day. She wondered if maybe Masrani had decided to stick around the island a little while longer and was coming in to see her.

Before her assistant could answer, however, the door to her office was pushed open and Owen strode in, Zara on his heels, carrying a small bouquet of colorful flowers and sporting a large, shit-eating grin.

"I'm sorry, Miss Dearing," Zara explained. "He was very insistent."

"It's fine, Zara. Leave us, please," she said, glaring at Owen as she stood. "What the hell are you doing here? And what are those?"

"Flowers," he answered brightly. He walked toward her desk and presented them to her.

"I can see that. Why do you have flowers?" she asked through gritted teeth. "I thought we agreed we were done with our little arrangement."

"Me too," he said. "But then after you left, I got to thinking. You said you don't want to date anyone right now. I don't really want to date anyone right now - at least not the ones that keep throwing themselves at me." Claire rolled her eyes. He ignored her, setting the bouquet on her desk above her keyboard. "So I was thinking, why not pretend to stay together. That way we're unavailable to everyone else but not getting badgered about it."

"I don't want to date you, Mr. Grady," she said as calmly as she could.

"I know. You've made that clear." She felt a small twinge of guilt at his comment; but if he was affected by it, he didn't show it. "But that's the beauty of it. We don't actually have to date each other. Just tell people we are."

"Won't it be suspicious if we never actually go out?"

"We sold it pretty well at the party without ever having gone out. And think about it, our social circles don't cross. My friends would all think we must be going out to the fancy restaurants you like, and all your people will just think you're slumming it with me at the bars," he said happily. He'd really thought it through.

She remained silent, mentally deliberating his side. She glanced down at the flowers on her desk as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"What's with the flowers?" she asked.

"Well, I figured word might have gotten around that we broke up or fought today. Boyfriends bring flowers to apologize to their girlfriends, right?"

She tried to fight her smile as she picked up the bouquet and examined the bright colored petals. "I wouldn't know," she muttered. "I've never gotten flowers from a guy before."

"Never?" he asked, shocked.

"Only a corsage for senior prom," she said, shaking her head and avoiding his eyes. "Alright; what you've said makes sense," she conceded. "We could keep this up for a little while longer, I guess."

"Right, and if either of us meets someone, or if we're ready to start looking for someone, we'll end it," he said, nodding. He was taking this very seriously. Claire was mildly impressed with his commitment.

"You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Grady," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

"Great," he said with a smile, gripping her hand firmly. He pulled out his cell phone. "Now, what's your number?"

"Why do you need that?" she asked warily.

He threw out his hands. "I'm not allowed to have my fake girlfriend's number? What if there's a fake family emergency? Or what if I need to make a fake booty call?"

She held up her hand to stop him. "Okay, that's enough." They exchanged numbers and she walked him to her office door.

He opened it, and seeing Zara sitting at her desk just outside, he turned around, grabbed her hand and stepped close to her.

"Thanks for giving me another shot," he said sincerely. He was quiet, but loud enough, she thought, for Zara's sake.

"Just don't make me regret it," she said, playing along.

"I'll call you tonight." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Don't work to hard, babe." He winked and walked down the hall to the elevators.

Claire watched him go for a moment before turning to Zara who hurriedly diverted her gaze.

"I trust you can remain professional about this?" Claire asked a little harshly.

Truthfully, Zara was the closest thing she had to a girlfriend aside from her sister. But she hardly spoke with her sister and she lived thousands of miles away, leaving Zara basically her only choice. They usually got along quite well, and had the occasional bouts of girl talk about shoes, or wines, and sometimes, rarely, men. In this case, however, given the potential for humiliation, Claire was exceedingly defensive.

"Of course, Miss Dearing," her assistant said right away.

* * *

 **Reviews, please! Thanks.**


	3. Chapter 3

Claire stood in the alcohol aisle of the island's food market, her eyes running over the labels of wine bottles in front of her. The market was a small shop where the island's resident employees could shop for some groceries rather than having to eat out at a restaurant for every meal (and thereby taking a table away from the park's guests). There was a small selection of produce, meats, and snacks, along with other household goods. The most popular aisle by far was the one Claire stood in. She'd seen the figures once; more alcohol was shipped to this island more than any other good, except for the carcasses that were provided as meals for the dinosaurs, of course.

"Of all the markets in all the world, she stepped into mine," a familiar voice said from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder at Owen standing a foot away, smiling.

" _Your_ market?" she asked, turning back to the wine and selecting a bottle of red and placing it in the basket she was holding. She turned back around when she heard one of the refrigerated doors opening and saw him lifting a six pack of beer.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" he asked, ignoring her question. "Glass of wine and bubble bath?" He smiled again as he fell into step with her as she walked leisurely down the aisle, looking for her favorite bottle of white wine.

"I don't think you need to be privy to my bath time rituals," she responded dryly.

"As your boyfriend, I strongly disagree."

She looked back at him with a leveled gaze. " _Fake_ boyfriend," she stressed.

"Yeah, but only you and I know that," he said quietly.

"You, me, and Simon Masrani. But it's only you and me here right now."

"Not for long. This is the alcohol aisle, after all. Here-" He held out his hand and for a moment she thought he meant for her to hold it. "Let me carry your basket."

"What? No," she said harshly. "I'm fully capable of carrying my own things."

"Come on," he urged. "I'm trying to look like a nice boyfriend here. Help me out a little."

"No," she said firmly, turning back to the aisle and selecting another bottle.

"Fine," he conceded. "Then hold my hand."

"You're unbearable," she groaned. He smiled. "No one is around; why does it matter? And we can just say we're not into public displays of affection if anyone asks."

" _You_ may not be," he said, "but I am. It's not like I'm asking you to make out with me on top of the produce. And wouldn't you like for word to spread about the two of us - about us being affectionate? I bet you it would drive McPherson crazy," he bargained knowingly.

She chewed on her lip for a moment, avoiding his eyes. "Daniel and I never were affection in public..." she said slowly.

"Here's what I think: he upset you, you want to piss him off, and this is how you do it - you go out with someone who is the polar opposite of him - that'd be me- and you enjoy yourself way more than you did with him," he said, a conspiratorial smirk stretching across his face. "It'll eat him up seeing you happier with someone else."

"Happiness is the best revenge," she said, hating that he was actually making sense. "Fine," she finally agreed.

She held out her hand tentatively and he laced his fingers with hers without a second thought. "And it wouldn't be a bad idea to show some vulnerability around me every now and again."

"How do you mean?" she asked warily. She made it a point in her life to never appear vulnerable.

"Something like letting me carry your basket, or leaning on me for something. It just shows trust." He shrugged a shoulder as he lead her down the aisle toward the cashier.

"I don't see that," she said, shaking her head. "Why would you want to be with someone too weak to take of herself?"

"That's not what it's about. And trust me, I don't think anyone would think that of you. _Ever_ ," he replied.

"Then what is it about?"

"Trust. Like I said," he answered. "You trust me not to tease you or make you feel bad about yourself. Needing help every now and again isn't actually a weakness, Claire. Admitting it shows strength."

"That's very wise coming from a man who smells like raptor feces," she said with a grimace as they stood in line together. Really, he didn't smell that bad, but he definitely hadn't just showered either.

He smiled down at her, laughing a little. "This is what knee-weakening power smells like, babe."

"Don't call me babe," she said quietly, ignoring his teasing tone. "Its infantile."

She looked around at the other people waiting around them. They were all looking curiously at them, some whispering to their neighbors and one even pointed at their hands which were still interlocked. It made her self conscious and she immediately released his hand and brought hers up to smooth down her hair. Owen, noticing her discomfort and apparently not giving a damn about it, brought his own hand up to copy her movements, running his palm over the back of her head and letting it rest on her neck, gently massaging the muscle there. And it felt good. It felt way too good. So she stepped away and looked to him.

"Are your hands clean?" she asked, wiping at her neck where her skin still tingled.

"No raptor feces, if that's what you're worried about," he said. He showed her his palm and while it looked ridiculously large and calloused, it appeared clean.

She nodded sharply and turned back around to face the cashier.

"So if you don't like 'babe,' what do you want me to call you?" he asked softly. She could only just feel his body standing behind her and he was leaning forward to speak close to her ear.

"How about my name?" she suggested in irritation.

"That's boring," he said quickly. She didn't have much time to be offended by that before he continued. "How about 'sugar' or 'honey bear' or - Ooh! - what about 'Claire Bear'?"

She turned around sharply. "Don't ever call me that again," she hissed.

"Whoa," he said in surprise, raising his hands up in surrender. "Alright, never again."

She turned back around and huffed in annoyance. Her father used to call her that. But he left when she was seven and never came back so she didn't much care to have any reminders of him.

"But I've got to call you something," Owen continued after a short pause as they shuffled forward in line. She could hear him muttering to himself, probably listing all the pet names he could think of. "I don't know," he said finally. "'Babe' might be the only one that works."

"Well you're not calling me that either," she said flatly.

"What are you calling me?" he asked.

She turned around slightly and gave him a sarcastic smile. "'Babe' actually suits you. You're very childish," she said before turning back forward. She'd never call him 'babe.' She couldn't even imagine the endearment coming out of her mouth seriously.

"I was thinking 'babe' suites you because you _are_ a babe. As in, you're hot," he explained.

She could feel herself blush and remained looking ahead of her so he wouldn't see.

"I still don't like it," she said.

"Hey Owen!" someone called out from behind them.

Both he and Claire turned to see who the voice belonged to.

"Hey, Matt," Owen greeted with a nod to the man in the next line over.

"Are you going tomorrow?" Matt asked vaguely.

"Yeah, I think so," Owen answered. "Building E right?"

"Yeah, I heard it's mostly going to be out in the courtyard," Matt answered, placing his items on the conveyor before the cashier.

"Sounds good. I probably won't get over there until nine or ten."

"I don't think it's really getting started until nine, anyway." Matt looked to Claire who was still watching the men's exchange. "So it's true?" he asked. "There's been rumors going around all week."

Owen smiled and looked down at Claire. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, we tried to keep it quiet but word got out," he explained.

"You've got a good guy there, Miss Dearing," Matt said with a wink at Owen.

"You think so?" she asked, finally speaking up. She noticed the people around them were now listening in intently. "Jury's still out for me."

Matt laughed. "You better take care of that one, Owen. She's way better than you deserve."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Owen said. Claire could hear the sarcasm in his tone so she elbowed him lightly in the gut.

Matt finished ringing up his items, paid, and said goodbye to the fake couple before heading out. Claire and Owen had finally made it to the cashier and as Owen pulled out his wallet, Claire quickly swiped her credit card.

"You're paying for my beer?" he asked hesitantly.

She shrugged. He seemed to be trying to help her out with this ridiculous situation for whatever reason. It seemed like the least she could do.

"Wow," he said flatly, apparently stunned. "You're, like, the perfect woman."

She snorted as he grabbed both his six pack and the brown paper bag with her wine. She decided she could try this vulnerability thing a little and let him carry her bag to her car.

"So what's tomorrow night?" she asked as they walked into the small parking lot.

"E Building is throwing a block party sort of thing," he explained.

"And you're going?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah. I thought I'd swing by for a few hours; drink someone else's beer, that sort of thing." He smiled at her after placing her bag on the floor of the back seat. "Why?"

"Do people expect me the be there?" she asked hesitantly.

Owen barked out a laugh. "No," he said immediately. "I don't think a single person expects you to be there."

She ignored the implication. He either thought no one thinks she knows how to have fun or no one likes her enough to invite her to such a party. It was all probably true, actually.

"Well, you're my fake boyfriend. How do I know you're not going to fake cheat on me?"

He smiled softly and put both of his hands on her shoulders. "I don't think you realize how intimidating you are." He was wrong. She knew exactly how intimidating she was. That was why finding a guy to actually go out with was a bit of a challenge, despite being _hot_ , as Owen put it. "Girls have been keeping their distance from me since people have found out about us. Happily, I might add. No one wants to be fired because of your jealousy."

"I wouldn't fire them," she objected. "I might fire you..." she added playfully.

"Funny," he said. "So what does that mean? You want to go with me tomorrow?"

Claire shifted her weight and shrugged her shoulders. "Not particularly. But you seem to be the expert here. Do you think I _should?_ "

He smiled a little before answering. "If you feel like it'll be torture for you, then no. But if you think it'll be bearable, then yeah. It'll be fun and it's another opportunity for word to get out and spread to McPherson about what a fun, sexy girlfriend you are."

She nodded, fighting a smile that threatened to break out at the thought of Daniel hearing that she had gone to a block party with her new boyfriend.

"You know, I gotta say," Owen began, noticing her smile, "this vengeful ex thing you're doing is pretty awesome. And kind of a turn on," he admitted, chuckling.

She sighed and laughed a little too. "Okay," she said with a determined nod. "I'll go with you. I just don't want to stay all night, so do you want me to meet you over there?"

"You can if you want," he said. "Like I said, though, I'm only planning on going for a few hours."

A few hours still sounded longer than she was willing to commit to.

"And you'll be with me the whole time?" she pressed. "You're not going to leave me on some couch somewhere while you go off with your friends and do a keg stand or something?"

He chuckled again. "No, I promise. I'll be by your side until you're ready to leave. And if you're really nice, I'll walk you to your car for a good night kiss." He smiled cheekily.

She rolled her eyes and opened her car door, sliding into her seat. "Don't count on it."

He held the car door open. "Let's meet there tomorrow night at nine. Park outside Building D," he said. "If it's in the courtyard like Matt said, that'll be closer." She nodded. "Hey," he said, smiling, "this is our first date."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, _babe_ ," she stressed the endearment. "It's just a fake date for a fake couple."

"I can't wait to fake make out with you," he said with a crooked smile that was annoyingly charming.

She rolled her eyes again. "I can't wait to fake break up with you. We should start planning how that'll work."

"Maybe we won't fake break up," he said. "Maybe I'll fake propose. We'll have a giant fake wedding and make fake babies."

She laughed begrudgingly. "I don't know about that one. Fake babies would be way too much for you and I to handle in our fake marriage. Maybe we should just get a fake dog or something."

"Nah," he said. "Fake Owen Junior wants to be a dinosaur-rangler and we're the only fake parents in the world capable of giving him that fake future."

"So you're saying it would be a disservice to our fake children if we didn't actually have them?" she asked confused.

"Exactly," he said. "See? McPherson's full of shit. You're a fun one, Claire Dearing."

Claire fought a blush again and tugged on the handle of the car door so she could close it and leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow at nine," she said.

He waved and walked over to his motorcycle, placing his beer in a side saddle bag. She watched him climb onto the bike and start it with a roar. She bit her lip as she saw the muscles of his arms and back shift and pull as he revved the engine and drove off. It was weirdly... _hot_...seeing him like that. He was definitely not like any man she'd ever dated before.

... _Fake_ dated, she reminded herself.

* * *

 **Please review. I'd love to know what you're all thinking of the story so far! Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all for the reviews! It's exciting to read your thoughts. Please keep reviewing!**

* * *

 **Are you excited for our date, Honey Bear?**

She ignored his text for as long as her frazzled mind would allow. _Honey Bear?_ Absolutely not.

 **Don't call me that. And define "excited."**

 **Excited: from the Latin excelsior, meaning you can hardly contain yourself as you sit in your office; you're jittery, counting down the seconds until you see me again.**

She snorted and was extremely happy no one was in the car with her as she was parked outside the control room.

 **Excelsior? Really? You're an idiot. And I'm not in my office. I'm in my car.**

 **So excited you're already in your car? Damn, Claire. Try to control yourself.**

 **I'll try. I just can't seem to get enough of your manly, knee-weakening scent, though. I'm so impatient to see you.**

She bit her lip, smiling as she pressed send. Now that they shared this secret of a fake relationship, she was starting to enjoy their banter. She was more willing to accept his teasing because it seemed like he enjoyed when she returned it.

 **Baby, you say the word, and I'll be there in a flash.**

She hid her smile as she exited her car and walked up the steps leading into the building. After twenty minutes or so of dealing with Lowery's rants on the ridiculousness of all the product placement, she felt her phone go off again in her hand.

 **But in all seriousness, you're still planning on going tonight?**

 **Yes. Nine o'clock. Building D. I'll be there.**

 **Good. Me too. Eat beforehand. I doubt they'll have anything more than some chips out.**

She had assumed as much.

 **Will do. Just have to figure out what I should wear.**

 **Well it'll be about 100 of twenty- and thirty- somethings getting wasted on cheap beer, outside, in Costa Rica. So I'll be in a tux. I'd say you should go with a ball gown and pearls.**

 **You don't think pearls would be too much?**

 **Nah, just don't wear the strand that has the diamonds between the pearls. THAT would be too much.**

She noticed Lowery looking at her funny and realized she had a massive grin on her face.

 **I have work to do. I'll see you at 9. And also...shouldn't YOU be working?**

It was a few minutes before he responded.

 **I make time for the special lady in my life. At the moment that happens to be you. Enjoy it while it lasts, sweetheart.**

 **"Sweetheart" isn't so bad...**

 **Yes, it is. See you later, honey bun.**

She rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to the screens before her.

"How's everything going, Lowery?"

"Good," he said with a shrug. "I was feeling like I was getting a cold earlier but now I'm thinking it's probably just allergies..."

"I meant with the park."

"Yeah, right. I knew that," he said, turning around to his desk and began looking over the data he was responsible for.

...

She groaned as she pulled up to Building D. Board shorts? _Really?_

Thank God she wasn't actually dating him.

He pushed off his motorcycle as she opened the car door and stepped out. He looked her up and down, taking in her skinny jeans and blouse.

"Okay, the jeans are nice, but the top?" he said critically. "Come on, Claire."

"What?" she asked defensively. She liked her blue satin top. The collar was a bit wide on her shoulders and the sleeves fell onto her arms.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "I just hate to think of how much money you've spent on your wardrobe. If beer gets spilled on you tonight, I'm not paying for your dry cleaning, just so you know."

"At least I put _some_ effort into my appearance," she said, eyeing his board shorts in disapproval.

"It's hot!" he exclaimed. "Come on, let's just...go."

He waved his hand, indicating he wanted her to follow him. She did so as he walked around Building D into the courtyard area of the employee residential compound. Neither Owen nor Claire lived on this part of the island, though. Owen had a small piece of land on the east side of the island. She hadn't ever been there, but knew of it as part of his deal collaborating with InGen on the raptors. Claire, along with many of the other higher level personnel, lived in a building in the resort area of the island. It was much better kept than the state of this building which, even though the oldest one had only been built seven years ago, were starting to look dingy and unkept. Claire shuddered at the thought of the tourists seeing this part of the island.

The party, just as Owen's friend Matt said, was held mostly out in the courtyard, but Claire could see people milling about at the entrance of Building E. Owen began weaving in and out of the party goers, and Claire tried her best to keep up with him but the uneven ground of the cracked sidewalks was difficult to navigate with so many people around. She managed to catch up to him during a break in the crowd and reached her hand out, grabbing hold of his right arm just below the elbow. He turned slightly and smiled at her before turning back around and continuing on his way, his destination unknown to her. He had held his hand back for her, which she begrudgingly took.

A lot of different people they walked past greeted him enthusiastically. He was clearly a popular guy on the island. He was nice enough to smile and wave back at everyone, occasionally giving up a high five. Once everyone saw who was following him, they all sort of stood shocked, eyes glued to her or their joined hands.

"Everyone's staring at us," she muttered to him as loudly as she dared over the music.

"We're a pretty attractive couple," he explained grinning at her. "Come on, I see Barry."

"Who?"

"He works with me and the raptors. Shouldn't you know that?"

"I can't keep track of everyone that works at the park, Owen," she said petulantly.

"You should at least know your boyfriend's closest friend and partner," he argued.

"Fake boyfriend, remember?"

"Don't say that too loud," he warned.

He pulled her along behind him, wading through packed picnic tables and sporadic lawn chairs.

"Barry!" he called out.

The other man quickly noticed his friend and made room on the picnic bench he was sitting on. There was only space for one, really, so Owen offered the spot to Claire who happily agreed to take it.

"So you're Owen's new girl," Barry asked her, though it sounded more like a statement.

She nodded. "It's nice to finally meet you. Owen's told me a lot about you," she lied.

"Well you should know he's a lying fool."

"The fool part I've had figured out for a while now," she admitted quickly.

Barry smiled and looked up at his friend. "She's way too good for you, man."

"So I keep hearing," Owen said tightly.

Claire smirked but placed her hand on his that was resting on the table next to hear. He looked down, probably in surprise, and smiled at her.

"Where are they hiding the beers?" he asked Barry.

"Beers are in a couple coolers over there." He pointed to their right. "And they have liquor, sodas, and water in eighteen," he said with a nod of his head in the direction on E Building.

"What do you want?" Owen asked her. "Anything?"

She shrugged. "A water would be nice."

"Alright," he said, holding his hands out to her. She took them and he pulled her up and, to her surprise, into his arms. "We'll be back later," he said to Barry.

But he didn't move immediately, and Claire was trapped in his embrace. Her hands were on his chest, up towards his shoulders, and his were clasped together around her waist. He was smiling down at her suspicious look.

"Hey, there, sugar," he said softly.

She grimaced at the pet name. "Try again," she said. He laughed, nodding, then took her hand in his and lead the way into the building and over to apartment eighteen.

There were a lot of people milling about in the hallway, and the same music seemed to be blaring everywhere they went even though she had yet to see a speaker. Inside the apartment, couples were seated on the various couches and chairs set out, many of which were canoodling closely.

Owen pulled her around to be in front of him, his hands on her hips, as he guided her between the crowd of people mixing their own drinks. There was a small opening of counter space by the dishwasher and he lead her in that direction.

"Water?" he confirmed. She nodded, not wanting to speak and draw more attention to herself. She glanced around and noticed that thankfully the people in the room seemed to be too preoccupied to pay attention to her.

Owen walked towards the fridge, having to ask a few people to move out of the way, and grabbed a cold water bottle from within. He brought it back to her, asking her again if she didn't want anything stronger.

"Holy shit! It's true!" said a loud, booming male voice.

" _Shit_ ," Owen groaned.

"Owen fucking Grady _fucking_ Claire fucking Dearing. Jesus Christ!" the voice said again. Claire finally saw who she suspected the voice belonged to as a man made his way over to them, craning his neck to see over the crowd as he did so.

Owen stepped closer to Claire and put both hands on the counter on either side of her. He leaned forward and she tried not to appear uncomfortable with his closeness.

"Maybe if we're very quiet and don't move, it'll go away," he suggested half-heartedly.

"Friend of yours?" she asked.

" _Friend_ is a strong word," he mused.

The man's words seem to have brought the rooms' attention all to focus on the two of them.

"How the fuck did you manage this? How does this even happen?" the man said as he finally got up next to them. Claire noticed his small stature immediately and wondered if that was the cause of his over enthusiastic proclamations.

"Fuck off, Connor," Owen said through gritted teeth.

Connor...she knew that name. This must be the guy Owen had said he'd already had to deal with regarding their fake relationship the morning she attempted to fake break up with him.

"No, man, I'm serious," Connor said, smiling obnoxiously white teeth at the two of them. "I'm genuinely curious. How's a guy like you fuck a girl like Claire Dearing?" He laughed an even more obnoxious laugh, looking around to see if people agreed with him.

"Hey! Watch your mouth," Owen warned.

"Oh, no, you're right," Connor sobered up immediately and looked to Claire. "I'm sorry, Miss Dearing. You'll have to forgive me. I'm a little drunk. Plus," he added laughing, "seeing the two of you together makes me feel like I'm tripping balls."

"Well, Connor, as always, you've been a delight. We're going to head out," Owen said, grabbing Claire's hand and pulling her toward the exit.

"But really," Connor continued, not giving up easily, "what was it you saw in him?"

Claire looked ahead of her to see Owen's tensed shoulders and neck. Should she say something? What does a girlfriend even do in situations like this? Maybe she should show some affection? Would that calm Owen down?

She reached forward with her free hand and put it on his shoulder, squeezing a little to massage the muscle. His hand, still holding tight to hers, squeezed back.

"Hey, I just want to congratulate you," Connor called, still following them. "You guys seem really cute together. I bet the sex is amazing, right Owen? She's gotta be a freak, am I right?"

That made him stop short. They had made it to the hall now and the people around them were watching with a hushed curiosity.

Owen turned around, his eyes focused on what she was sure was Connor's face behind her. She turned around before he could act, ripping her hand out of his.

"You're right," Claire said confidently. "The sex is incredible. It's so nice to finally be with a man who can keep up with me. Maybe one day, when you get more confidence in your masculinity and manhood, you'll make a woman feel just as satisfied as he makes me." She turned back around to face Owen who was fighting a smile. "Shall we go? Barry's probably wondering where we are."

Owen turned back around and placed his arm around his shoulder. She took note of his smug smile.

As they exited the building, he leaned down to speak low into her ear. "You're amazing. I think I'm falling in fake love with you."

"Just remember I did that for you the next time I need your report on the raptors turned in, okay?"

* * *

 **Sassy Claire is the best Claire. =]**

 **Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Longest chapter yet! I hope you all enjoy.**

* * *

Claire stepped steadily around the puddles of mud that marred the path to the petting zoo of baby dinosaurs (all herbivores, naturally). This was a genius plan, she always thought. What better way to utilize the young assets while they were still too small to be let out in the fields with their older and much, much larger counterparts? The attraction made up for the cost to maintain the infants until they were large enough to be moved.

She was there that afternoon with the small staff of animal behavioralists and engineers that often traveled around on these visits with her. She tried to visit each attraction once a month (which lately, due to her ever-growing schedule, had turned into once every two months) to see how everything was going with the staff and assets. The employees usually took up most of her time, complaining about one thing or another, which is why having the behavioralists and engineers there was so helpful to her. The behavioralists, to the best of their ability, made sure the assets seemed comfortable in their environment, which in turn kept them in line with the guests and the law suits to a minimum. The engineers reviewed the paddock's and holding area's structural integrity, making sure there weren't any weak spots the assets could escape from.

She had forgotten all about the young woman whom she had met at the New Year's Eve party that worked in this division until she saw her standing by the wooden fence, supervising the small number of children inside the pen with the assets. A quick glance at the tag on her shirt reminded Claire of her name - Amber.

"Miss Dearing," she greeted with a smile. "You just missed Owen."

"Mr. Grady was here?" Claire asked, surprised.

Amber nodded. "Yeah, he comes by every now and again."

Claire had her suspicions as to why Owen might be visiting this attraction so frequently as she looked at the slender woman before her. She had looked quite stunning at the party, but here in her cargo shorts and fitted, button-down park shirt, she looked like just the type Owen Grady would be seen with. Her curly dark brunette hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her makeup accentuated her features.

Claire inwardly sighed. Hers and Owen's fake relationship might be coming to a halt soon, she thought. She certainly didn't think it was appropriate for him to be flirting with other women while everyone thought he was dating her.

"He likes the baby apatosauruses," Amber continued, not noticing the way Claire bristled at the other woman's familiarity. "They don't have total control of their balance, what with the long legs, tails, and necks, so they fall and wobble a lot. They make him laugh," she said with her own chuckle.

"The kids seem to enjoy them," Claire said, watching the small children squeal with delight as one apatosaurus wrapped it's neck around the back of one of the kids.

"They do," Amber agreed. "But I've got to tell you," she said quietly, turning and speaking directly to her now, "it is so cute the way Owen talks about you." She smiled warmly.

Claire was taken aback, shocked that an employee would speak so candidly about her (fake) relationship while Claire was supposed to be reviewing said employee's performance.

"How do you mean?" she asked. Her curiosity won over her decorum in this instance.

"You can just tell he's totally into you. He talks about how funny you are, how you keep him in line - and that he actually likes that," Amber explained, laughing. "It's just...cute. It's so much better than the usual 'she's just really hot,'" she said, lowering her voice to impersonate a man. "I can tell he really cares about you."

Claire tried to fight the smile creeping up on her face. Owen was really too good at this.

"He's a good guy," she said softly.

"Yeah," Amber sighed. "So, anyway, the guys wanted me to bring up the feeding schedule with you and the behavioralists..."

...

 **You've got to tone down the sweet talk to the employees.**

She texted him when she made it back to her office a couple of hours later. Her feet were hurting and she could feel a headache coming on. She was tired of looking at her computer screen filled with graphs and statistics.

 **Who am I sweet talking?** he sent back.

 **Me apparently. But you're doing it to the employees that I meet with for review.**

She waited a little while longer for his text. She wondered if he was still at the raptor paddock. When he still hadn't responded after a few minutes, she explained further.

 **I met with your friend Amber at the petting zoo today and she was telling me how smitten you are with me.**

 **Just trying to be the best fake boyfriend you've ever had** , he finally said.

 **You're the only fake boyfriend I've ever had so you don't have to try so hard. If we're ever going to fake break up, we can't seem like the perfect couple all the time.**

 **You're crushing my dreams of me fake proposing to you.**

She bit her lip, smiling.

 **Are you planning our fake honeymoon as well?**

 **Absolutely. Not so much the destination. Just the night time activities.**

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. An urgent email popped up on her screen and she put her phone down to attend to it.

 **Now I've got you thinking about it, don't I? ;)**

She ignored his text as she continued working.

...

In the beginning of February, a month into their fake relationship, Owen and Claire were seated together at a conference table along with the heads of the other divisions for the annual park meeting where figures and goals were discussed and achievements from the previous year were announced. It was the slowest time of year so it was the best time for the meeting to occur.

Owen sat next to Claire. He'd made a big show of it, moving the rolling chair of David Brines, the head of the Tyrannosaurus Rex division, who had been sitting next to her further down the table while the man was still in the chair. A few people laughed while Claire glared at him, furious at him for being so unprofessional.

"I've got my eye on you, Brines," Owen had said jokingly as he pulled up another chair in between them and sat down.

Brines played along, lifting his hands up in surrender but smiling as he said, "Well, I do have the bigger carnivore."

"But I've got four," Owen countered.

"Quality over quantity, Grady."

Owen smiled and slapped the other man on the back, before turning to Claire. His smile faded as he took in her serious and angry expression.

The meeting lasted almost two full hours and Claire noted that Owen really hadn't paid attention to any of it. As the meeting wrapped up, Owen and Brines shook hands. Owen had placed his hand on the small of Claire's back as she stood, but she swiftly moved out of his embrace, heading over to talk with some of the others in the room.

"Who wins a fight?" she heard Owen ask. "My raptors or your T-Rex?"

"Rex. Any day of the week," Brines insisted.

Owen caught up with her a few minutes later as she was walking toward the elevator, heading back to her office. He tried to grab her hand but she quickly withdrew it.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, confused.

"You are so unprofessional!" she hissed. People from the meeting were standing around the elevator and she didn't want them to hear so she stopped and pulled him into an adjoining hallway.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned. "That thing with Brines? It was funny; people laughed."

"I don't care that some of them thought it was funny. You doing stupid stuff like that undermines my authority."

"Me doing stupid stuff like being your boyfriend undermines your authority?" he asked incredulously.

"That's not what I said. And you're not my real boyfriend!" she stressed in a whisper.

"Yeah! I know!" he said, also lowering his voice. "You don't have to keep reminding me! I haven't forgotten that we're not actually seeing each other. I'm not stupid, Claire."

"Well, sometimes you seem like it!" she said without thinking. He flinched and moved back a little like she'd just slapped him.

"Wow. Really? God, Claire, you can be a real bitch sometimes," he said, shaking his head. She could tell she'd really made him mad now.

"Like I haven't heard that before." Because she had. Multiple times.

"Look, I'm sorry I did that in there," he said, though it certainly didn't sound sincere. "We don't go out, we hardly see each other...doing stupid shit like that just makes it seem like we're together for everyone else's sake. Otherwise, people would start questioning us."

"Well then maybe we should go out sometime," she said angrily without really hearing herself.

"What?" he asked dumbfounded.

She was silent as the current shift in conversation registered with her brain. How had they gotten here?

"If you think we need to be seen together in public then we should go out for dinner some nights or something," she said sternly, hoping he couldn't hear the nerves in her voice.

"You actually want to go out on dates?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Fake dates," she corrected. He rolled his eyes but she ignored him. "If it'll get you to stop your _childish_ behavior, then yes."

"Fine," he agreed tightly. "When?"

"I don't know. When are you free?" She crossed her arms over her chest, still trying to appear mad at him so he knew not to do that sort of macho, territorial crap again - even if it was just in jest.

He placed his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes again. "You're schedule is way busier than mine. Just pick a night and text me," he said.

"Fine, I will," she said through gritted teeth.

Brines and a few others rounded the corner of the hallway they were in, stopping in surprise at seeing them.

"I have to go back to work," Claire said quietly. She sighed and stood up straighter. "I'll get in touch with you later."

"Yeah, whatever," he said. He looked back at the group who was making their way down the hall now. "What's up?" he asked Brines.

"Elevators are packed," he explained. "We're taking the stairs."

"Good idea," Owen agreed, following after them without another word to Claire.

"Trouble in paradise?" she could hear Brines ask him.

"Can't always be sunshine and rainbows," Owen replied, shaking his head.

"Did you break up?"

"No," Owen said immediately. He turned back around to see Claire standing there, watching him. He turned back and said something too quietly to Brines for her to hear.

She turned on her heel and made her way back to the elevators, still annoyed with her stupid, immature, fake boyfriend.

...

She was annoyingly nervous. It wasn't a real date! She wasn't even going back to her place to shower and change first. Yet all through the day she was anxiously tapping her pen on her files and jiggling her foot under her desk. She was jumpy and Zara had taken notice, asking if everything was alright. And what was she supposed to say? _No! I have my first real fake dinner date with my fake boyfriend tonight._ It didn't make any sense to her - how could she expect someone else to understand? Her only hope was that Owen was just as nervous as she.

That wasn't likely, though. Not when she considered his cool and easy-going nature. And definitely not when she realized she'd been making a mental itinerary for the evening. She eventually found that writing out the itinerary calmed her. Seeing it outlined on paper was somehow soothing her frazzled nerves, regardless of how simple it was.

 **1\. Meet at Sunrio Tequila Bar**

 **2\. Eat and Converse**

 **Possible discussion topics:**

 **a. Work**

 **b. Our fake relationship**

 **c. Our fake break up**

 **d. His stupid pet names**

 **e. His raptors**

 **f. His never wearing board shorts again**

 **3\. Go for a walk, possibly**

 **4\. Go home and pray you didn't make a fool out of yourself.**

She didn't understand why she was so nervous. She'd been on plenty of dinner dates before. Her first date with Daniel had been a dinner.

Ultimately, she decided it must be the strange and complicated nature of hers and Owen's relationship that had her on edge. She was supposed to look like his girlfriend to others but not actually _be_ his girlfriend. Where was the line supposed to be drawn? Was she supposed to hold his hand? Kiss him, even? Was she supposed to talk about him more to Zara? Should she complain about some nasty habits he may or may not actually have? Does he leave the toilet seat up? Of course he does - who is she kidding? Does he come home smelling like sweat and raptors?

Home.

Oh God. Did people expect them to move in together?

She was about thirty seconds away from throwing up the knot in her stomach when her phone buzzed with a text from Owen.

 **Still on for tonight, Snuggle Bug?**

Ok. They definitely needed to discuss the pet names issue. Maybe she should move that to the first discussion topic.

 **Yes. I've got the itinerary all written up.**

 **Itinerary? It's a date not a vacation.**

She sighed.

 **Yes, I know. I just feel better when I have a plan in place.**

 **Oh I get it. Your nervous.**

She bristled at his mockery.

 **If you're going to mock me, at least use proper grammar.**

 **Whn u thnkin bout gittin 2 da bar?**

She cringed. **Oh God. We're over. I can no longer be seen or associated with you.**

 **Alright, sorry. I'll be good. Promise. See? Punctuation and everything!**

 **Yes, very good. Suddenly you're dateable again.**

 **I'll see you and your itinerary around 6?**

She made a note on the schedule to arrive at Sunrio at six on the dot.

 **I'll be there with my itinerary in hand.**

 **Lucky itinerary...**

...

She was early, like she is for all her appointments. She was please to find he was there even before her, already seated at a booth in the corner. She remembered Daniel had been seven minutes late to their first date.

"Sometimes this place fills up quick so I wanted to get here before then," he explained without prompt as she slid onto the padded bench across from him. "They've got good margaritas here. Do you want one?"

She shook her head quickly. "No." She could hear her sister's cackling laugh in the back of her mind. Tequila made her do stupid things. Very stupid things. She'd end up in bed with him and missing one of her shoes and all of her jewelry if she drank too much of it. "I can't have tequila; my diet won't allow it," she lied.

"Diet?" he asked incredulously. "Seriously? Why are you dieting?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know, I just am. Who cares?"

"You look like you're going to wither away!" Owen exclaimed critically. "You don't need to diet."

"Can we talk about something else, please?" she begged impatiently. She already had a fake relationship she had to keep tabs on, a fake diet on top of that would only make things worse.

"Fine," he said tightly. He sighed and rested his forearms on the table. "Let's see this itinerary we're working with."

She gave him a leveled look that meant she was in no mood to be teased before unfolding and sliding the paper torn off a yellow legal pad across the table to him. He read through it quickly, silently. She noticed his mouth quirk up into a smirk.

The server came to their table for their drink order. Claire asked for a water with a lemon wedge and Owen ordered himself a margarita and an appetizer of chips and queso.

"Could I borrow a pen from you?" he asked the young woman with a charming smile. "I promise I'll give it back."

"I'm trusting you," she said with her own coy smile. "I only have one other pen with me tonight." She reached into her apron and pulled out a blue pen, handing it to him before she left to retrieve their drinks.

"So, _Meet at Sunrio_ ," he read aloud. "That's done. We can check that off." He drew a line through her words, the blue ink standing out against the black letters she'd written. " _Eat and converse._ Good. You're discussion topics..." He tapped his finger on the paper. "I see you've moved my 'stupid pet names' to the first topic to be discussed." He placed the cap back on the pen and placed it on the table. He then crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat as he regarded her with a smirk. "Go ahead."

She fought a smile and a blush. "You've got to stop with them," she said. "They're embarrassing and cheesy."

He smiled and leaned forward again, lowering his voice. "They're supposed to be embarrassing and cheesy. That's what makes it so fun. Plus I'm also actually trying to find one you like."

"I wouldn't hold your breath," she said. She too leaned in closer, one elbow resting on the table with her hand just below her ear. "I've never been a fan of them."

"I'll find one," he said confidently. "Ok, now on to the second topic." He looked down at the paper for reference. "Did you want to talk about work next or did 'work' and 'stupid pet names' switch places? Your doodles don't make that clear."

The server brought their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. They hadn't even looked at the menus yet so Owen asked for more time.

"How was your day at work, _sweetheart?_ " she asked him teasingly.

"It was wonderful, buttercup. How was yours?"

"Busy as ever." She reached for a menu on the side of the booth and began perusing over the items listed. "What's good here?"

"Everything," he answered. "This topic of discussion isn't listed here on our itinerary though so we should be brief while discussing it. You know what? I'll just add it." She watched as he quickly scribbled in _What to Eat_ , under 'work.' "There, now we can talk about it."

"You don't have to be such an ass about it," she muttered.

She avoided his stare and he didn't say anything as she continued looking over the menu. When the server came back with the appetizer, they placed their entree orders. As the waitress left, Owen stood from his seat and walked around the table to sit next to her, resting his left arm behind her on the back of the booth. He pulled the itinerary towards them and uncapped the pen with one hand.

"'Work' and 'What to Eat' are done." He crossed a line through both. "Now on to 'Our fake relationship.'" He looked back to her. "What about it?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek. He was sitting very close to her and watching her intently as he was waiting for her to say something.

"It's...complicated..." she said slowly. "I guess I'm not completely confident on how to navigate through it."

"How do you mean?" he asked. At least he sounded genuine now, no longer taunting her.

"I just don't know how to act with you," she admitted.

"Well, if we were really dating how would you act?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. With my past boyfriends...with Daniel for instance, we would often times have dinner at his place and talk about the park and...actually we mostly only ever talked about the park."

"So you never went out on dates with him in public?" Owen asked in disbelief.

"We did but not often," she replied. "It was never something that was discussed, it was just what happened."

"What about anniversaries? Or birthdays?"

"We were only together for ten months so we didn't have an anniversary. We did gifts for birthdays," she said weakly.

"Well that sounds boring," Owen admitted. He took his arm away from behind her and began eating the chips and dip. "He never took you out to parties or dancing? Nothing like that?"

"Maybe once or twice. It just wasn't our thing." She reached forward, grabbing a chip.

"He just seems like the kind of guy that would make a big deal out of spoiling you," he said. "Like he'd want to parade you around like a trophy or something."

Claire shook her head. "He never did anything like that. And I don't know that he ever considered me a prize he won." That sounded so demeaning and yet it sort of hurt realizing that all at the same time.

"I don't remember how we got to this," Owen mumbled. He looked down at the paper in front of them. "Oh, yeah. We're supposed to be talking about us."

"Right," she said. "I guess my concern is that I'm mostly taking my cues from you."

"Are you worried I'll take advantage of you?" he asked seriously.

"No!" she exclaimed. "That hadn't even crossed my mind. Until now, anyway."

He snorted and shook his head. "I'm a decent guy, Claire. I wouldn't do that."

She was silent for a moment as she regarded him. "Yeah," she said finally. "I believe that."

"So what are you worried about?"

She huffed in annoyance. Was it hot? She was on the verge of sweating. Taking a long sip of her water, she recalled all the questions she had earlier.

"I suppose I'm just uneasy with what we need to do to sell this," she said finally. "Like you were saying after the meeting, we aren't seen in public so much. Does that mean that when we are we have to...step things up?"

"Step things up?" he repeated, baffled. Realization dawned on him a moment later. "You're worried about the PDA."

She wanted to blush and shrink back at his words. It felt like he was taunting her again. Instead, she sat up straighter and raised her voice ever so slightly to appear confident.

"At the grocery store you said you that public displays were something you do. I normally don't, so I'm simply wondering where we go from here," she explained haughtily.

"Claire, by public displays all I mean is something like this - us sitting next to each other" - he put his arm back to rest behind her shoulders - "with my arm around you, maybe. Or holding hands occasionally," he said patiently. "I'm not suggesting we go at it on the steps of the Visitor's Center."

She grabbed another chip to avoid talking.

"Although, full disclosure," he continued. "I'm completely down with that if that's something you're interested in." His cheeky smile told her he was joking so she elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

"Very funny," she said.

"Look, we aren't going to do anything you'll be uncomfortable with. And if I do something that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and I'll stop," he said sincerely. "I think we should have fun with this. If it's stressful then it's not worth it and we should call it off now." He looked down at the itinerary. "Which brings up to the next item on our list: 'Our fake breakup.'"

"We don't have to follow this," she said with a defensive roll of her eyes. She knew he was just being nice. He probably thought she was such a control freak by making an itinerary.

"Clearly, you were nervous about this date - _fake_ date," he corrected when he saw her about to do the same. "If this" - he picked up the paper and waved it around - "helps you, then I'm all for it."

Why was he doing this? Why would he waste his time pretending to date her when he could be _actually_ dating someone else? He said he wasn't interested in dating at the moment, but was that really it? Did men ever really feel that way? She'd always thought that was just a woman problem.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked quietly, critically. "What do you get out of this?"

He regarded her carefully and eventually shrugged, adapting a look of indifference. "I'm just having fun. Plus, like I said, dating you makes everyone stay away."

"You don't seem like the type to want to keep people away," she stated flatly.

"Well, when you attract the same type over and over again and it never seems to work out, why keep dating that type?" he explained tiredly. "I guess this is a little selfish for me. Maybe if it gets around that I could be with someone like you, I can attract a different type."

"You talk about it like we're all animals attracted to scents and sounds," she observed, ignoring what could have possible been him complimenting her.

"Well we sort of are," he said with a smirk.

"So you're using me?" she asked with her own smile. "Like those birds with the colorful feathers - and I'm the feathers?"

He smiled. "You're my flare."

"Well, I guess that makes me feel better. Now this doesn't seem so one-sided."

The server came back with their meals and they moved on to discussing his raptors and the technicians that worked with him. After they finished eating, he firmly told her that he wasn't getting rid of his board shorts. His only concession was that he'd try not to wear them around her.

"So, a nice, long, romantic walk under the moonlight, huh?" he asked, referring to her itinerary again, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes," she said, resting her chin in her hand and leaning towards him. "A long, romantic walk back to my car."

He hummed and lowered his voice. "I love hearing you blow me off," he joked.

"Good, because I'm sure it'll happen more often than not."

"I don't know," he said doubtfully. "You might find that I'm quite the fake catch."

"You think I'll hold on to this fake relationship for as long as I can?"

"I think you're going to enjoy the fake romance, especially since McPherson never bothered."

"You plan on fake wooing me?" she asked with a smile.

"Maybe," he answered. "We'll see. I still haven't figured out if you're worth my wooing."

He stood and placed some bills on the table to pay for their check. Then held his hand out to her to help her slide out of the seat.

"Funny you should say that," she said as she stood next to him. She lifted her hand to smooth down his shirt over his shoulder and down to his bicep. She tried very hard not to notice his muscles but he flexed, smiling as he did. "I've been wondering if you're the right choice for this fake relationship."

"Oh I am, believe me," he insisted. "If there's one thing I'm sure of in this world it's that guys like McPherson get pissed off when girls like you date guys like me."

"Why's that?" she asked playfully.

"I'm sure you know," he said, his jovial tone taking a sudden solemn turn. "Come on, I'll take you on that romantic walk to your car you've been day dreaming about all day."

She decided to ignore his sarcasm and his shifting mood.

Once outside the bar, they hardly made it three feet before her shoe got caught on a crack in the sidewalk and her heel snapped off.

"Shit!" she hissed furiously. She loved that pair of Manolos.

"Are you ok?" Owen asked quickly, holding a hand out for her to steady herself. "Did you roll your ankle?"

"No, the heel just snapped off," she grumbled, trying to balance herself.

He crouched down and picked up the discarded stiletto stem. She felt his hand on her ankle, lifting her foot awkwardly off the ground. She had to reach out and grab hold of his shoulders so she didn't fall.

"I could super glue them back together," he offered.

"Super glue?" she whispered, horrified at the thought. "It's fine. Just...help me get to my car. It's parked right backstage."

Before she could protest, he quickly scooped her up in his arms, letting her knees bend over his forearm. She let out a surprised gasp and wrapped her arms around his neck lest her drop her.

"What are you doing?" she asked in outrage. This was not at all what she had in mind.

"Seriously, cut it out with the dieting," he said sternly. "You're practically weightless. I could probably throw you up in the air six feet - no sweat." He bounced on his knees and stared up at the darkened sky, acting like he was about to toss her.

She tightened her hold around his neck. "Don't you dare!" He looked back down at her and smiled. "You're a caveman," she said with a sigh as he started walking towards the backstage area of the park, hidden from the eyes of the guests.

"Yeah, but for now I'm _your_ caveman," he said. "What was next on your itinerary after a walk?"

"Go home," she answered simply.

"Oh right. 'Go home and pray you didn't make a fool out of yourself,'" he recalled perfectly with a smirk and a knowing glance down at her.

She gave him a stern gaze. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," he laughed.

* * *

 **Phew! Now go send me some love by reviewing. Thanks!**

 **PS - raptors in the next chapter =]**


	6. Chapter 6

**So this chapter and the next are my favorites, I think. Let me know if you like it!**

* * *

"I need to ask you a favor!" Claire called out to Owen after stepping out of her car and seeing him climbing the stairs to the bridge of the raptor paddock.

He waved at her to follow him rather than calling back.

"I don't want to go up there," she said when she made it to the bottom of the stairs and he was at the top.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to ruin my heels on the grates," she explained, indicating to the nude pumps adorning her feet and the meshed metal of the steps and platform above.

"You want me to carry you?" he asked playfully and it reminded her of the unfortunate turn of events from their first fake dinner date the week before.

"That's not funny," she said, her hands on her hips.

"It's a little funny," he replied. "Come on up," he urged. "Just be careful where you step. I want you to meet the four other ladies in my life."

And then he walked further along the bridge and out of her sight, leaving her with no choice if she wanted to talk to him right then. Which she did. She really wanted to get this over with.

"Miss Dearing," another voice called to her from the bridge as she slowly made her way up the steps. She looked up to see Barry smiling as he approached her. "Welcome." He offered her his hand as she came up on the final step before the platform. "You came at a good time. The girls are in a good mood today."

"Glad to hear it," she said as politely as she could given her state of frustration.

"Claire," Owen called. "Over here."

She smiled again at Barry as she made her way around him. She walked slowly along the platform, keeping both hands on the railings on each side of her. She looked down to the paddock floor but didn't see any of the raptors nor could she hear the tell tale sound of their chattering.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"They're coming," Owen assured her. "They're out hunting right now. What did you need to ask me?" He placed both forearms against the railing, and leaned down, peering through the wilderness trying to spot his predators.

"Masrani is hosting a dinner party," she began somewhat breathlessly. "He invited me and a few others and I got bombarded with questions on whether you'll be there or not."

Owen turned and smirked at her. "We're the talk of the town lately."

"Yes, well, I said I'd see if you would be able to make it," she continued. "I know it's not really your thing, but I did go to that party with you and I did tell that Connor guy that you were...satisfying me," she forced out with a blush, "so I think you owe me."

"Yeah," he laughed. "That was awesome." He looked back at her but something caught his attention behind her and his smile faded a little. "He knows, by the way."

She turned around and saw Barry still at the end of the platform calling out to another tech.

"Knows what?"

"About us," he said, looking back up at her and squinting in the sunlight. "That's it's all fake."

"What?" she hissed. "Why would you tell him?"

"He actually kind of figured it out on his own. I mean, we're pretty much best friends - he knows me. Knows when I'm lying." He stood up and gripped the railing in front of him with one hand, the other balanced on his hip. "You don't have to worry about anything. He's a good guy; he won't tell anyone. He actually thinks it's kind of funny."

"I can't believe you told him," she said with an aggravated sigh. "What if it gets out?"

"Then I'll throw him down with the raptors," Owen said with a shrug, obviously joking. "He won't tell anyone. We had a long talk; I threatened him with every dirty secret of his that I know. It's fine. I just thought you should know."

She chewed her cheek and crossed her arms stubbornly.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"It's just...sort of humiliating, isn't it? We're _pretending_ to date each other."

"We're not doing it because we want to be with someone and no one wants us," he explained. "We're doing it because _everyone_ wants us and we don't want them."

" _Everyone_ ," she scoffed.

"You know, you're pretty insulting sometimes. I know I'm not the high power attorney type that you go for but some girls dig the whole rugged thing," he said indignantly.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"You. Laughing at the idea of _everyone_ being interested in me," he said, getting frustrated.

She stared at him for a moment, purely surprised by his assumption. "I meant me," she said quietly.

His expression softened almost immediately as he stared at her. Just as he was about to say something, a squeal came from below.

Claire looked down, seeing a pig hopping out of the bushes and running as fast as its little legs could carry it toward the opposite wall behind them. A short second later, soft pounding of multiple feet could be heard before one raptor after another pushed out of the brush.

"Oh, man," Owen said. "They've almost got it."

Both Claire and Owen turned quickly to the other side of the bridge as the raptors ran under them.

"You might not want to watch this," he said to her.

But she couldn't look away. One raptor pounced and only just missed the pig who seemed to dodge out of the way. Another raptor made a desperate grab with its jaws but also missed as the pig dove inside a small opening in the wall. The raptor shoved it's head through as much as the opening would allow and Claire watched as the animal tried clawing at the wall around it.

"Wow that was close," Owen said happily. She couldn't tell if he was more excited that the pig got away or that his raptors almost had an impromptu snack.

He whistled loudly and she cringed away from the noise. "Alright, alright, eyes on me!" he yelled, pulling a small device out of his pocket that he used to make a clicking sound. Three of the raptors turned to him almost immediately but the one with its head in the pig hole was still trying to break through.

"Charlie, that's enough!" he yelled. The raptor paused only slightly before continuing its desperate efforts. "Hey! Charlie," he clicked a few more times, "don't you make me come down there!"

Claire wondered if he was joking. She _prayed_ he was joking. He wasn't stupid enough to go done there with those killing machines, was he?

The raptor pulled its head out of the hole, shaking itself a few times before glancing up at Owen.

"Good girl," he praised. He turned to Claire. "You stay here." He looked back down at the raptors and raised his hand. "With me, we're walking."

He walked farther down the bridge to an intersection and turned left, the raptors all followed, their eyes never leaving Owen. It was impressive, to say the least. Claire had never seen anything like it. Last time she was here with the behavioralists and engineers for the review he hadn't been anyone near this level. All they would do then is stop whatever they were doing and look up at him. That had seemed like such a huge feat at the time.

Owen grabbed a bucket sitting on the platform and walked back in the same direction he'd came, hand still in the air, clicking every now and again.

"Delta, keep up," he ordered. One of the raptors perked up at the name and sped up a little. "Dennis, why don't you grab some gloves for Miss Dearing," he called out to someone.

By the time he made it back to her side with the raptors now below them, a nervous young man was making his way over to her with a pair of blue latex gloves. She grabbed them but didn't put them on.

"What's happening?" she asked Owen quietly.

"That's good," he called down to the raptors. "Alright, steady now...Eyes down!"

Claire watched as the raptors all appeared to bow. Owen placed the bucket down and Claire was able to see a mound of dead white rats inside.

"No," she said firmly. "No, I'm not touching those."

"Of course you're not," he said. "You'll be touching the gloves that are touching them." His eyes remained trained on the dinosaurs. "Hey! Echo! I said eyes down!" The raptor who had been peeking around at its surroundings, almost like it forgot where it was, bowed back down. But then another one's head raised. "Blue, eyes down." The raptor didn't listen. "Don't give me any shit, girl." Still, she didn't move, staring up at them. " _Eyes! Down!_ " The raptor eventually bowed its head again.

"This is testing their patience," he said. He reached down and grabbed a rat. "Alright, eyes up!" He clicked again. In unison, the four girls raised their heads.

"Delta," he called. The raptor perked up and Owen threw the rat, which it caught with a snap of its jaw.

"Put your gloves on," Owen ordered her.

"No," she denied.

"Claire, put your gloves on," he sighed patiently. "Or I'll throw this one at you." He grabbed another white rat from the bucket. "You can feed Charlie."

She huffed in annoyance and shoved her fingers into the gloves. The raptors started chattering away, getting impatient for their rewards.

"Calm down," Owen yelled to them. "She's working on it."

She pulled the gloves as high as they would go on her forearms. Owen grabbed her hand and held it out, placing the rat in her palm.

She groaned a little. "Which one is Charlie?"

"Charlie's the lighter green one with the dark stripes," he said pointing to the raptor who perked up immediately.

Claire threw, horribly, and the raptor dove to catch the rat before it hit the sandy ground.

"Alright, now Echo," Owen said. "She's the orange one." Claire would have said she was more of a brown, but she didn't think that was worth arguing about.

Again, she threw the rat, aiming at the raptors head. This time she was only off by a foot or so.

"Alright, Blue," Owen called. "The best rat for my best girl." He held the rat up and Blue stretched higher, waiting for his toss. "After this, we'll play a little, okay?" He lobbed the rat high in the air and as it came down, Blue leapt up to catch it mid air.

All around them, the technicians began clapping at the show.

"How do you pick which order they get fed in?" Claire asked as the raptors began to roam beneath them, knowing they were free to do so now.

"Some of it is about who listened the best," Owen explained. "But it's also about teaching patience. Blue's the most headstrong and challenging, so I usually make her the last one just to make a point that I'm in charge. Charlie and Echo don't have the best attention spans so I know I can only go so long with them before I have to start all over. Delta is usually pretty stubborn, so if she does a good job following my orders she gets the first rat."

"You really know them," Claire commented, impressed.

"I've been working with them for four years. Day-in, day-out. Every day," he said. "That's the only way this works." He looked over to her, finally taking his eyes off his girls below. "Knee-weakening, isn't it?" he asked with a cocky grin.

She smirked and shook her head. "It's impressive."

"It's sexy, you know it," he teased.

She smiled and watched Echo leaping around below them, apparently looking for attention.

"They want to play," Owen said, noticing the raptor's antics as well.

"How do you play with them?"

He grinned mischievously. "Just keep those gloves on."

"Owen, I really should get going," she said.

"Isn't it time for our review anyway?" he asked. "Stay. Let them show off for you."

"Let them show off or let _you_ show off?" she questioned knowingly.

"Spend some time with your boyfriend. It won't hurt you," he urged.

She was going to correct him but he seemed to take such offense the last time. He was right; she didn't need to remind him all the time. He knew what they really were.

He clicked the device in his hands to get the girls' attention. "Alright, pick one," he said to her.

"What do you mean?"

"Just pick one of them for now."

"Okay...Echo," she said, pointing at the eager raptor below.

"Echo, you're up. Front and center, come on," he clicked and held up a rat. Echo and the other raptors all stood to attention. "Blue, stand down. Delta, Charlie, _git_."

Owen called Echo's name again and whistled, pointing to the other side of the bridge. The raptor hurried under the platform and turned up to look at Owen who began walking backwards. He whistled and pointed back to the original side again, continuing that pattern for about ten yards, Echo zigzagging underneath the bridge.

"Good girl, Echo," Owen called happily, tossing the rat. He told Claire to pick another.

"How about Blue?"

"Blue!" he called. She hurried to the platform. "We make it a little harder for Blue," he explained as he repeated the same zigzagging trick back in Claire's direction, only this time he'd have her pause on each side and either keep her eyes up or down for a moment or so. "That's my girl," he said affectionately, rewarding her with a rat.

"Okay, now this time, Claire, you're going to walk and point." He handed her the rat.

"No, Owen," she protested. "My shoes..."

"You don't have to go backwards. And just go slow."

"I can't whistle," she admitted. "And why would they listen to me?"

"You have the food," he answered. "I'll whistle and walk with you. It'll be fun, come on. Pick a raptor, any raptor."

"Charlie," she conceded. She held up the rat to get the dinosaur's attention.

Owen called to Charlie and nodded at Claire to start walking. She walked slowly, holding the rat high in the air and pointing right, then left, then right again. She was going too slow for the raptor, apparently. Charlie knew the game and would weave under the bridge before Claire had pointed and Owen whistled. She thought it was funny, but Owen made them stop and start again, trying to get Charlie to wait until she was commanded to move.

Delta was less cooperative and didn't like Claire holding the rat. She snapped her jaws each time she changed sides of the bridge and that was after Owen would have to urge her himself to move from one side to the other. When Claire tossed the rat to her, she let it fall on the ground in front of her and only when Echo tried to dive for it did she hurry up and eat it.

"She's a little shit," Owen explained, looking down in what Claire thought might be disappointment. "Don't take it personally."

"I should go," she said, peeling off the gloves before he could protest.

He walked with her along the bridge and when he held out his hand, she laced her fingers with his. Then he laughed lightly and held out his other hand.

"I'll take your gloves," he said, smiling softly.

She fought her blush and handed him the latex gloves balled up in her other hand. He stuffed them in his pocket and then helped her steady herself as she climbed down the steps.

"That was..." she began as she walked toward her Mercedes. She didn't really know how to describe it, though.

"Did you like it or were you nervous?" he asked, letting go of her hand and hooking his fingers in his belt loops.

"Both, I guess. The rats were the worst part," she admitted with a smile.

"Give her kiss!" someone shouted.

Owen turned around, grinning at the paddock and trying to see who had called out. Claire couldn't tell who had done it as there were a handful of people now watching them.

"So, about the dinner at Masrani's..." she said, remembering why she'd come out there to begin with.

Owen turned back around and became serious again. "Do you want me there or do you think I'll make you look unprofessional?"

"I don't think _you_ make me look unprofessional," she replied delicately. "It's just sometimes the things you do..." She trailed off again, not knowing how to finish that without making things worse. She reached up to his chest and brushed some dirt off his shirt.

He furrowed his brow at her. "That doesn't really give me an answer," he said. "Is this a situation where you want your fake boyfriend to be there or not?"

"I think...yes, possibly," she admitted. She sighed. "I'm fairly certain Daniel will be there."

"McPherson? Oh," Owen said in surprise. "Well, then, I'm there. Definitely."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'd expect you to help me out around my exes," he said.

"Okay," she said, a smile forming on her lips. "It's next Sunday."

He opened her car door and the guys behind them started booing at the lack of action.

"Do you want me to go tell them about you satisfying me?" she asked jokingly.

"I've got a better idea: hop in the backseat and let's fog up the windows," he said with a cheeky grin.

She laughed and made to step into her car but stopped herself.

"Kiss me," she said.

"What?" he sputtered.

"Or pretend to kiss me or something. A couple would kiss goodbye, wouldn't they?" she asked hesitantly.

He smiled and stepped closer to her, putting his hand on her lower back and pulling her towards him. He watched her face intently for a moment, almost like he was memorizing her or waiting for her to stop him. And when she didn't do anything, he brought his lips down to hers.

Vaguely she could hear to wolf whistles and cat calls but much of her focus was currently on the man's mouth that was pressed to hers. He didn't try to make it any more intimate than it needed to be as a goodbye kiss. Much like the kiss from the New Year's Eve party, he just puckered his lips against hers.

He pulled back after a few moments and she smiled softly at him, grateful that he didn't over do it. He kissed her forehead before slipping his hand off her lower back and back to his side. She climbed in the car and rolled down the window.

"Thanks," she said, "for agreeing to go with me." She felt a small blush on her cheeks. She hadn't meant to thank him for the kiss.

"Thanks for letting me show off with my girls," he countered, still smiling and jerking his head in the direction of the paddock.

"So this dinner," he continued. "I'm guessing it's not a board shorts and t-shirt kind of affair."

"Not quite," she answered. "Something like what you wore on New Year's Eve would work.

"Alright," he said with a nod. He slapped his hand against the door twice then stepped back from her vehicle. "I'll see you later."

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	7. Chapter 7

**Something happened with the last chapter where I wasn't able to read any reviews. BOO! I could see them come in but I couldn't actually read them, which sucks because I really wanted to see what you had to say about that chapter. Hopefully that doesn't keep happening. Keep reviewing anyway!**

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Claire glanced at the clock when she heard the knock on her door. He was five minutes early and she couldn't have been happier about it. She'd been ready for the last twenty minutes and had spent the remaining time straightening up her apartment in case he wanted to come in.

With a deep breath, she opened the door to find Owen Grady in a black jacket over a grey button down with a black tie.

" _Ho-ly shit_ ," he muttered so softly she almost didn't hear him. He clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow after doing so, like he was mad at himself for letting that slip out.

Claire didn't exactly mind. The white dress she wore was another one of her favorites. It hugged her body in horizontal bands of satin.

"Wow," she said smoothly. "You look different."

"Yeah. Suit and tie isn't really my look," he said, collecting himself and running his hand down his chest, over his tie, self consciously.

"No," she said smiling, "you look nice."

"Thanks," he replied gruffly and motioned to the hallway he was standing in. "Shall we go?"

"Yes!" she agreed nervously. "Yes, of course." She stepped out and locked her door.

She tried to ignore the fact that he hadn't said she looked nice. That's what he had meant by the _holy shit_ , though - right? What if she didn't look nice? Had she overdone it with her make up? Did her hair look bad? Was the white too bold? She loved white. She always wore white. What if all this time she thought she looked great in white and people were just too scared to tell her otherwise? God, she was going to be having dinner with her boss and her most influential colleagues and she was going to show up looking like a mess.

"Do I..." she hesitated asking him as they neared the elevators of her building. Did she really want to hear him say she didn't look nice? They still had some time, though; she could run back to her place and change if she needed too. "Do I look...appropriate?"

"What?" he asked confused and his voice sounded a little off. Was he getting sick?

"You know," she pressed, looking down at her dress. "This isn't too much, is it? Does it look bad?" she finally asked.

The elevator arrived and he gave her a hard look as he stepped inside. "No, Claire. You look fine."

 _Fine?_ What did that mean?

But the elevator was descending by then and if she was going to change clothes, the time for that had just run out. So she held herself up taller, thinking that if she just seemed confident enough it wouldn't matter if she didn't look her best.

Masrani had a private estate on the island that was empty most of the year as he mainly lived and worked in New York City with his wife and young daughter. Claire had only been there twice before. The large house sat secluded from much of the park noise and was a short walk away from a private beach. It's modern architecture and sleek interior designs had been featured in a handful of magazines and inspired homes around the world.

When Claire and Owen pulled up in her Mercedes, it occurred to her that he might be nervous having dinner with all those invited, given their higher career status.

"Are you okay?" she asked him after she turned the engine off.

He nodded, calmly looking over to her with a small smile. "Yeah. Are you ready?"

He opened his door before she really had a chance to answer or ask him anymore questions. She couldn't shake that something was wrong with him.

"You're sure you're okay?" she asked again as they neared the front door.

"I'm fine," he deflected nonchalantly.

There was that word again - _fine_.

"Ok," she said quietly, dropping her inquisition with a sigh.

After being greeted by the house staff at the door, they were lead into a large great room where the other guests were currently mingling. They were offered drinks, which they both declined as the others around them quickly took notice of their arrival. It didn't escape Claire that she was the only woman there aside from some of the staff.

"Claire," Daniel McPherson greeted as he approached the couple. "It's nice to see you again." He offered his hand to Owen. "She hasn't scared you off yet?"

"I'm not so easily scared," he said. She wanted to smile at his tone, which was just shy of polite, but thought she probably shouldn't appear to be encouraging him.

"The man works with velociraptors," another guest said as he approached and shook hands with Owen. "At least he knows Claire won't rip him to shreds. Cameron Holt," he introduced. "I've heard a lot about your work," he said to Owen. "I work with the nutritional department. You go through so many rats and pigs we've decided it's cheaper to breed them on the island."

Owen chuckled good-naturedly. "Yeah, they get lucky with the pigs sometimes. The rats though," he said, shaking his head, "that's their treats. Sometimes I go through two buckets a day."

Daniel made a humming sound. "Who doesn't love a dead rat? Does Claire make you bathe in sanitizer before you touch her?"

"Not since she's gotten used to handling the rats," he answered smoothly.

"You feed the raptors?" Holt asked her, clearly impressed.

"I have," she admitted with a smile at Owen. "They're a lot of fun to watch."

"Claire," Masrani called from her right.

"Mr. Masrani, thank you for inviting us," she greeted.

"Of course! I'm so glad you could make it. And Mr. Grady," he said, holding his hand out for Owen to shake. "It's nice to see you again." He turned to Claire, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He's treating you okay, yes?" Claire gaped momentarily at her boss, surprised he would ask such a thing. "She is my favorite, Owen," he said in warning.

"She's my favorite, too, sir," Owen said from behind her.

She saw Daniel smile tightly before quickly taking a sip of his drink.

"Glad to hear it," Masrani said. Did he think she and Owen were actually together now? "Dinner is almost set," he announced to everyone. "Why doesn't everyone freshen up their drinks?"

Masrani lead Claire away from the small group, apologizing to Owen in the process.

"I didn't realize things were still going on with you and Mr. Grady," he said quietly.

"Yes, sir," she said. She cleared her throat nervously.

"I see," he said, peering at her perceptively. Thankfully he didn't say anything else on the matter. "I wanted to introduce you to Mark Givens," he announced as they approached a man in a grey suit. Claire tried to hide her embarrassment at noticing how attractive he was. "Mark, this is Claire Dearing. She's Senior Operations Manager - my second."

"Ah," Mark said, recognizing the name, she supposed. He held out his hand to her. "It's nice to meet you Miss Dearing."

"Mark is the island's new CFO," Masrani explained.

"Oh, wonderful," she said politely and dropped his hand as casually as she could. "Welcome. How are you liking the island so far?"

"Well, it's a far cry from Chicago," he said with a laugh. "It'll just take some getting used to, I'm sure."

Masrani excused himself and disappeared into an adjoining room.

"Chicago?" she asked. "How long were you there for?"

"Most my life, actually. It's where I grew up and I ended up back there after I graduated from Columbia."

"I worked in New York for Mr. Masrani for three years before I came here," she said empathetically. "It was quite a culture-shock at first. I'm sure after a few months you'll know all the ins and outs."

She felt a hand rest on her back and Owen came into her peripheral, smiling at Mark.

"Hi there," he greeted. "Owen Grady. Raptors."

He held out his hand and Mark took it with a confused look. "Pardon?"

"I work with the raptors," Owen explained.

"Oh. Oh, wow! That's- That sounds...dangerous," he said, laughing.

Claire laughed along with him. "Owen, this is Mark Givens."

"CFO," Mark gave his title in much the same way Owen explained his job.

"Ah," Owen said. "Yet another suit. I'm getting the feeling I'm the odd man out here."

"You don't know why you were invited?" Mark asked, cocking his head and grinning. Claire noticed how the skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

"Well, technically, I wasn't invited," Owen explained. He nodded to Claire. "I'm here as arm candy."

"Oh, you two are together?" Mark asked in surprise.

"Yep," Owen said tightly, glancing down at Claire, apparently waiting for her to agree. She nodded her head, smiling shyly.

Before anything more could be said, Masrani called everyone to attention and invited them to join him in the dining room.

"So many forks," Owen groaned quietly and they found their seats. He eyed the place setting before him with uncertainty.

Claire laughed a little and leaned closer to him. "Just work your way from the outside, in."

"I'm desperately trying not to scream 'That's what she said,'" he whispered to her.

She rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile from him as she sat down.

As the dinner progressed, Claire was noticing more and more how much all the men around her seemed to be fascinated with Owen's work. And they were all continuously surprised that Claire had ever been involved with the raptors. Of course Owen was embellishing just _how_ involved, and how often, she was.

"Charlie and Echo love her," Owen said, stretching the truth. "Blue and Delta still need some time."

"Really?" Dr. Wu, the geneticist and creator of much of the island's dinosaurs, asked. "That's wonderful. That they've been able to develop their own personalities," he explained with a smile at Claire, "not that two of them don't like you."

Claire returned his smile politely. "They are definitely unique to each other," she said, looking to Owen. "And he's got them all figured out." She placed a hand on his back, rubbing a small circle before picking up her wine glass.

"I don't know if I'd go that far," Owen said.

"Your relationship with them must be strong, though," Holt commented, "for them to listen to you."

"Do they really listen to your commands?" Wu asked. He was sitting next to Masrani at the head of the table who was also listening intently to Owen's experiences with the raptors.

"For the most part," he said, nodding. "They know me as their alpha so there's a certain level of respect there. They know I provide for them - that's where the rats come in," he said with a look to Holt. "But it's not without its challenges. And it hasn't always been as easy as she's seen it." He passed his gaze onto Claire.

"Do they ever challenge your authority?" Daniel asked.

Owen nodded emphatically. "Absolutely. That's part of the reason we had to build the catwalk over the paddock as early as we did. They were starting to test their boundaries and see where they really were in the hierarchy."

"Isn't the catwalk sort of like admitting defeat then?" Daniel questioned shrewdly.

"Well, it was either build it or people would start losing arms," Owen answered. "They were almost up to my shoulders when we built it so we wouldn't have been able to put it off much longer anyway. It helps to establish my dominance that they literally have to look up to me."

"You've said they're unique to each other," Masrani began, "what are their personalities like?"

Owen took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his thighs. Claire wondered if he was nervous. He seemed so calm and collected but was that an act?

"Blue is the beta. If I wasn't around, she'd be in charge; and believe me, she knows it. But she's incredibly smart. She picks things up fast. She can be sweet but because she's so intelligent, she's usually a little impatient.

"Delta is extremely suspicious. She doesn't like new exercises or people; which is why it's taking her so long to warm up to Claire. She's stubborn and likes to take her sweet time with commands.

"Charlie is...excitable," he said with a chuckle, looking at Claire for confirmation. She nodded. "That's probably the best word for it. She's fast and she'll do just about anything for a treat.

"And then there's Echo," he said with a heavy sigh. "She's...well...she's an idiot." He smiled warmly but shook his head as he stared at his plate. "She's the one that'll chase her tail and attack her own shadow." Everyone chuckled at the thought.

"She always seems happy though," Claire added.

Owen glanced up at her, nodding. "Yeah, she is. She likes to play the games we do and play with her sisters - even if they don't want to play with her," he laughed.

"It sounds like you care a lot about them," Dr. Wu observed.

Owen nodded shyly. Claire reached under the table and took hold of his hand.

"So who do you like more? Claire or your raptors?" Daniel asked, laughing.

"Well he does call Blue his best girl," Claire said, teasing him.

"But we heard him call you his favorite," Masrani pointed out in his defense.

"Notice he's suspiciously quiet," Mark observed.

The table laughed as Owen hid his face in his hands, smiling.

"It's okay," Claire said. "They were with him first." She cut off another piece of the duck on her plate. "I do like to think I'm getting close to their level, though."

The table moved on to other topics, finally giving Owen a chance to dig into his food. As they were finishing up their meals, Owen placed his hand on the back of Claire's chair and angled toward her a bit. He didn't say anything, just sat there smiling at her. She smiled back, reaching up and fixing the position of his tie.

"You've been quite the chatty-Kathy tonight," she said quietly.

"Not by choice," he muttered.

But he was continually sucked into conversations with the other men even after dinner, which was fine with her. She was then able to mingle on her own with Masrani and Dr. Wu, and for a few moments, Mark Givens.

Eventually she made her way over to Owen as he was talking with Daniel, Holt, and Mark.

"Hey, beautiful," he said to her as she came to stand up next to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I like that one," she said, smiling at the pet name.

"Well, good. It suits you." He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

"So what have you two got planned for Valentine's Day?" Holt asked them.

Claire froze. Valentine's Day? She hadn't even realized that was two days away. She hardly ever had someone to celebrate with. Of course people would expect her and Owen to have plans, though.

"We're just going to stay in," Owen said. "We'll have dinner at my place. You know how much of a nightmare it is to go out that night."

Mark and Holt nodded in understanding.

"Ah, a romantic evening in the residential compound," Daniel said sarcastically. Everyone in attendance that night was high level personnel who lived in the more luxurious residential building just outside the resort area; his assumption of Owen was pretty insulting, even to Claire.

"Actually Owen has his own house," Claire retorted.

"Really?" Holt asked in surprise.

"Yeah, it's on one of the lakes on the east side of the island. It's like this place," he said, glancing around at Masrani's estate, "only about an eighth of the size." He smiled crookedly down at her.

"It's nice," Claire said, looking up at him. "And private."

Owen's brow rose minutely in surprise at her insinuation. "Yes, it is."

"Yeah, staying in is a good idea," Mark interrupted them awkwardly.

"Is that what you're doing with your wife?" Claire asked him curiously.

"Oh, no, I'm not married. And I'm not currently seeing anyone so I'll be solo this year," he said, lifting up one side of his mouth. Claire thought she saw a hint of a dimple in his cheek.

"Oh, you and McPherson, here, should have a bro's night," Owen suggested with a forced clap on Daniel's back.

Holt snorted a little into his glass as he was taking a sip. Mark laughed uneasily and Daniel smiled tightly, not bothering to make it look sincere.

Claire shifted on her feet and Owen tightened his arm around her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Just a little cold," she lied. She was actually freezing but it was the clear lack of camaraderie that was making her the most uncomfortable.

"Claire Dearing admitting she's cold?" Daniel asked in shock. "That's a first."

"She can't get cold?" Owen asked gruffly.

Daniel shrugged. "She doesn't like to admit weakness."

"Being cold is a weakness?" Mark asked, seemingly confused but Claire suspected he was arguing for Owen's side.

"To her, yes," Daniel said.

Owen rolled his eyes and turned back to her. "Do you want my jacket?"

She shook her head and wrapped her arm around his waist under his jacket, pulling herself closer to him and the warmth of his body. "No, just stay close," she said, smiling.

 _How's that for showing vulnerability?_ she thought happily, remembering Owen's suggestion to her in the food market a month ago.

"I have a better idea," Owen said, jerking his head in the direction of the exit. "Let's get out of here."

Holt chuckled softly. "Before you go, let's get a picture of you two," he suggested. "Claire, don't you want documented proof of Owen in a suit?"

"It is a rare occurrence," she admitted.

"And she looks great..." Mark said, trailing off, but appearing to appeal to Owen for the picture.

"Yes she does," Owen agreed. "Okay, one picture." He pulled out his phone and handed it to Holt. "Just no saving it as your screensaver or anything," he told her.

She scoffed. "It's like you don't know me at all," she said, feigning offense.

"I do know you. And I know this is going to come back to bite me, somehow."

They stepped in front of the staircase and Owen wrapped his arm back around Claire's waist. Holt snapped the picture with Owen's phone and handed it back to him, complimenting them on a nice picture.

"Hey, you have any of the raptors on there?" Mark asked excitedly.

"Of course I do," Owen said, smirking. "They're my girls."

Even though Owen had been the one to suggest they leave first, Claire now had to wait for him as she showed pictures and videos to the guys. Typical.

"Wow...all those teeth..." Mark said, shaking his head in awe.

"Yeah," Owen agreed happily. "Watch Blue catch this rat in slow motion." Claire rolled her eyes at the display of boyish behavior in front of her.

Both Holt and Mark made loud, appreciative shouts as Blue caught the rat and clamped down. Owen's smile grew and Daniel walked away, rolling his eyes. The commotion attracted both Masrani and Dr. Wu, who also watched Owen's videos with excitement. They made more intelligent comments like "such fantastic beasts; so powerful," and "Watch the way she pushes herself forward. It's so much force and it's effortless to her." In comparison, Holt, Owen, and Mark exclaimed things like "That's awesome!" and "Dude!"

"Okay," Claire called after twenty minutes or so. "Owen, we should get going."

"Yeah, you're right," he said finally, turning his phone's screen blank and placing the device in his pocket.

"Would you mind if I stopped by sometime while you're training them?" Wu asked. "I'd love to observe their behavior." The other men agreed.

"Yeah, sure," Owen said with a laugh. "They love an audience."

"I thought Delta didn't like new people?" Masrani asked.

"She's fine with them watching so long as I'm the one controlling everything. She just doesn't like when other people, like Claire, give her orders or try to feed her," he explained knowingly, placing his hands in his pockets.

"We'll set something up then," Masrani said. "Perhaps Claire could coordinate?"

She nodded. "Sure." It's not like her plate wasn't full enough already.

When she finally got Owen in her Mercedes, she turned to look at him, laughing.

"What?" he asked smiling.

"You," she said, shaking her head. "Mr. Popular with your raptors."

Owen shrugged and settled deeper into the passenger seat. "I'm just making you look good, beautiful."

"There's that name again," she said quietly as she pulled out onto the small road and headed back to her apartment.

"You said you liked it."

She was just glad he didn't seem to be acting strange anymore.

He walked her back up to her apartment, and stood behind her, awkwardly, as she unlocked her door. Was she supposed to invite him in? What impression would that give him?

"Thanks again, for coming with me tonight," she said as she stood in the doorway.

"No problem. Anytime you need me to piss off McPherson, I'm there."

"I think you're getting good at that."

"I know," he said cheerfully. "He's a pretty terrible guy. I don't know what you saw in him."

"Oh well, you know...high power attorney type..." she said, frowning a little as she realized she wasn't sure she actually liked that type of man now. "He might have ruined that for me though."

"Good," Owen said. "They suck. You should be with someone you have fun with. You know? Someone who makes you laugh and feel good about yourself."

She nodded. "Yeah, I know." She looked up at him shyly. "I don't like looking for anyone, though. I prefer to just let things happen. I've got enough to worry about without trying to control that part of my life." She ran a hand over her brow. "Maybe that's my problem."

"Well, hey," he said after a moment of silence, "what do I know about relationships, really? This is probably the healthiest one I've ever had and it's not even real."

She smiled and leaned her head against the door frame. "Yeah, me too." Owen snapped his fingers and clapped his hands together, looking like he was about to tell her goodnight. "Can I ask you something?" she asked, stalling him.

"Sure." He shrugged.

"What was with the ' _Holy shit_ ' earlier?"

He cocked his head, confused. "Holy shit?"

"When you first got here... That's what you said when I opened the door," she explained. She was still concerned over the way he was acting when he arrived earlier. Had he just been nervous about the dinner?

"Oh," he said, his expression dropping. "That." She waited for him to explain. "You just took me by surprise, is all."

She stared at him, a small smile and blush creeping up on her. "In a good way?"

He laughed and looked down the hallway, avoiding her eyes, she thought. "Let's just say I don't know what's better: you in that dress, or you in the green skirt."

She stifled her smile, a little embarrassed by his flattery. She pushed off the door frame, placed her hands on his shoulders, and reached up to kiss his cheek.

"Thanks," she said again. "I'll see you later."

"Good night, Claire."

She smirked at the surprised look still on his face as she shut her door.

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 **Please review! Thanks again.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you so much for your reviews! I'm so happy you guys have been enjoying this story. I can't wait to share the rest with you!**

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" _Miss Dearing,_ " Zara called over the intercom, " _you have a visitor_."

Claire sighed as she glanced at her phone. She wished she would just say who was there rather than making her ask.

"Who is it?"

" _He says he's your Valentine_ ," she said with a soft laugh.

Claire was confused for a moment before she remembered all the red and pink she'd seen people wearing that day. Valentine's Day.

"Send him in."

Owen opened the door to her office quickly, sticking just his head in.

"Hey, beautiful," he said with a smile. "I have something for you."

Claire stood and walked around her desk to lean back against its front.

"If it's chocolate, I'll remind you I'm on a diet," she lied, crossing her arms.

"Is that any way to greet your boyfriend on Valentine's Day?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Just get in here and close the door."

"That's more like it," he said enthusiastically. As he stepped in, he pulled a bouquet of white roses from behind his back and shut the door. "Happy Valentine's Day."

He held his arms out wide for her, apparently expecting a hug. He had gotten her flowers, she supposed a hug was due. She wrapped her arms around his waist as he pulled her into his chest.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she returned. "Thanks for the flowers."

"Of course," he said, pulling away. "I thought it was a nice touch." He smiled, looked at the roses, and then set them on her desk.

"They're beautiful," she said. "Careful, Grady, a fake girlfriend could get used to this kind of spoiling." He chuckled and sat down in one of the two chairs in front of her. "So did your other girls get flowers today, too?" she asked, referring to the raptors.

He shook his head. "No, they got flanks of beef today."

Claire laughed. "I'm sure they liked that."

"They _loved_ it," he assured. "What are your plans tonight?"

She shrugged. "I wasn't planning anything."

"Okay," he nodded, "well, there's two options: either we both stay at our places so that we're not seen out without the other, or you come over and have dinner with me like I said we would do."

She gaped at him. "You want me to come over for Valentine's Day?"

He shrugged. "We both gotta eat, right? We don't have to make it a big deal."

"So like a fake Valentine's Day?" she asked with a curious smile.

"Exactly," he agreed. "Our fake dates have been going alright, right?" He gave her his most charming smile, which she found very irritating.

"They have," she said slowly.

"So what's the harm in a fake Valentine's Day?" he asked.

She walked around her desk, back to her chair where she felt more in charge and took her seat.

"You aren't playing any game, here, are you?" she asked cautiously.

He cocked his head to the side. "What game would I be playing?"

"I'm just saying, between the flowers, and the pet names...you've been very affectionate as fake boyfriends go..."

"What are you getting at?"

"I want to make sure we're on the same page with this."

"You think I'm getting too attached?" he asked, though it sounded more like he was figuring something out.

"I just think we should be careful," she said delicately. "I don't want things to get out of hand."

He smiled, a bit condescendingly. "Claire, we're fine. I'm fine. I know what this is - what we're doing. I'm just having fun with it," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. He leaned forward on his knees. "But if it's getting too confusing for you, then maybe we should stop. End this."

She was taken aback. "I'm fine!" she said quickly. "I think, if anything, I've been the one holding back the most. When we're around people you get very...loving."

"I'm just selling it, Claire," he said. "And I'm not the only one. You and your innuendos..."

" _Innuendos?_ " she asked furiously.

"You know what?" he said, standing with his hands raised by his head. "Maybe ending this now _would_ be a good idea."

" _Owen_ ," she said, standing as well. "Look, I'm sorry if I upset you. I just don't want us to get in over our heads. This isn't a permanent situation. I want to make sure we're both levelheaded."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm levelheaded," he insisted. "I know this isn't real."

She walked around her desk again to stand in front of him. "Okay," she whispered. "That's all I needed to hear. You've become somewhat of a friend to me; I don't want to inadvertently hurt you."

He scoffed lightly. "Remember who you're talking to," he demanded. "Out of the two of us, I'm not the one most likely to get hurt."

She glared at him. "I'm not some fragile little girl who wears her heart on her sleeve," she protested. "I'm not so easily destroyed."

He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry. You've just...got me on my toes right now." He brought his hands up to his face and rubbed at his eyes before stepping away from her. "All the doting boyfriend crap is for the benefit of those around us," he said. "Especially McPherson. I mean, don't you want that? To seem happy together and like we're-" He stopped himself short and took a deep breath. "I can stop, or ease up on it, if you want. If it's too confusing for you or if you're too concerned about all the _feelings_ , or whatever; I can do that."

"No," she denied, shaking her head. "You're right. That's how a normal couple would be. I can handle it. I guess I just have to trust you to tell me if lines start to cross for you." She swallowed thickly. "And I'll do the same."

"Good. So about tonight," he began.

"I'm just going to go back to my place," she said. "I've got a bottle of white wine that's been calling my name all morning." She smiled shyly at him, hoping he understood.

"Okay," he said with a brief nod. "Do you want to grab dinner sometime this week?"

"Sure," she said, taking out her phone and checking her calendar. "How about Friday? I'll buy this time."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "We'll argue about that later." He walked to her office door. "I'll text you about Friday. And when I leave here now, I'm going to act like you're coming over tonight - for your assistant's sake."

"Got it." She nodded and grinned at his persistence with their little game. "I'll walk you out," she said as the idea struck her.

"Why?" he asked.

"It's Valentine's Day," she explained. "And I need to show more of an effort, right? Just down to the elevator."

She held out her hand as she got closer to him. He took it, smiling down at her.

"You look nice today, by the way," he complimented.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly. She opened her office door and looked to Zara. "I'll be just a minute."

Owen waved goodbye to her and walked alongside Claire as they headed toward the lifts. Claire pressed the down arrow and since they were still in the sight of Zara, wrapped her hands around Owen's neck.

"Stepping it up," he said quietly. "Not bad."

"Kiss me," she ordered, nonplussed.

He snickered. "Yes ma'am." He bent his head down and kissed her once quickly, then pulled her closer and kissed her again.

The second kiss was more tender than the first, and Claire felt herself sinking into his embrace. They'd never kissed like this before. His mouth traveled over hers, pulling her bottom lip between his lips. As the elevator dinged in arrival he pulled away, giving her a dazzling smile.

"See you tonight," he said with a wink.

"See you..." she said in an embarrassingly breathy voice.

...

Later that night as she was curled up in her armchair with a glass of wine and her collection of e-books, her phone buzzed with a text message.

 **To my favorite fake girlfriend, happy Valentine's Day.**

And with the message, he sent the picture of the two of them from Masrani's dinner party. She smiled warmly at the memory of that night, and the blush she could feel from the alcohol bloomed deeper as she remember their kiss this afternoon.

 **Great picture. You should dress like that more often,** she replied.

 **There you go again. Always trying to change me.**

 **Okay, fine. Keep the cargos and vest. They're growing on me.**

Truthfully, she thought he pulled the look off nicely. But she was hesitant to really let him know that lest the teasing never end.

 **I told you, ladies dig the rugged look.**

 **I wouldn't call it rugged, really. Just outdoorsy.**

 **Don't take away my rugged identity. It's very precious to me. It's what separates me from tools like McPherson.**

 **You're far from being like him, trust me.**

He didn't respond immediately so she went back to her reading.

 **Am I a better fake boyfriend and he was a real one?**

She bit her lip.

 **Sadly, there's no competition. You're way better.**

 **Bet I'm better in bed too.**

She barked out a laugh and was thankful no one was around to hear her like that.

 **You might be. But we've only had fake sex so I wouldn't really know.**

 **Fake sex that fake rocked your world. That should count for something.**

 **It makes you the best fake boyfriend I ever had.**

 **Damn right it does.**

She smiled, nuzzled back into her chair and continued sipping her wine.

...

"Hey, Claire, do you have a minute?"

She turned in the hallway towards the person speaking to her and found the new CFO, Mark Givens, approaching her as she made her way back to her office after a meeting with investors.

She felt a small blush on her cheeks as she noted her immediate attraction to his appearance. He was tall and lean and was wearing the hell out his navy suit and golden tie.

"Hi, Mr. Givens," she said as she slowed to a stop. "What can I do for you?"

"Please, call me Mark," he insisted with a crooked smile. He held up a folder in his hand. "I was just going over some numbers from the last fiscal year and had some questions on some items in the General Ledger that I was told came from you. Do you think you could sit down with me and look them over?"

"Sure," she said, nodding more enthusiastically than was really necessary. She glanced at her watch and then at her schedule on her phone. "I have some time now, if you'd like."

He grinned. "Now would be great."

She lead the way to her office and let Zara know she to hold her phone calls while she talked to Mark.

About ten minutes into their meeting, her cell phone started buzzing on her desk with a phone call from Owen. She silenced the call, letting it go to voicemail, but he called her again when she didn't answer.

"It's fine," Mark said, seeing the caller ID as he had pulled up a chair in front of her desk to view the computer with her. "You can answer it."

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

She answered the call, and put the phone on speaker so she could continue to type on her keyboard, looking into what Mark had questions about.

"I'm in a meeting and you're on speaker; what do you want?"

" _Wow_ ," Owen said. " _You're cheerful._ "

"I'm just busy," she explained. "Did you need something?"

" _Real quick - who are you meeting with?"_

"Mark Givens. You met him at the dinner party. He's the new CFO," she said.

" _Oh yeah. Hey, Mark,_ " he greeted politely.

"Hey, Owen, how's it going?"

" _Good, thanks. Claire, we need to talk business,"_ he said seriously.

"Business?" she asked, confused.

" _Yeah, we have a little pest problem that needs addressing,_ " he said vaguely.

"I'm not following."

" _McPherson_ ," Owen answered simply.

Claire could feel herself turning pink. She really didn't want all her dirty laundry aired out in front of Mark.

"Can we talk about this tonight at dinner?" she asked quickly.

" _Sure, but just in case he comes by to tell on me, I want you to tell him to go shove his foot up his ass._ "

Mark snickered. "What did McPherson do?"

" _He's a nosy little piece of shit and he's Claire's ex_ ," Owen explained.

Claire smiled tightly as Mark looked to her in surprise.

"Oh, I hadn't heard about that," he said.

" _Yeah, it's old news. I know you're new but, come on Mark, keep up with the gossip. Get it together, man_."

"You're right. I'll try harder," he said sincerely, winking at Claire.

" _He wants us to sign some form declaring our relationship,"_ he told Claire. _"He kept saying crap about how he hadn't asked us to sign it before 'cause he didn't believe we'd last more than a month anyway. Fucking ass hole._ "

"Okay, Owen," Claire said sternly.

" _No, I'm allowed to be mad at this. Your ex comes to me, without warning, giving me shit about how I can't make you happy, how I'm nothing...fuck that. He was smart enough to not come up on the bridge and tell me that, at least. I would have thrown him over and let Blue and the girls handle him."_

"He said all that to you?" Claire asked, shocked that Daniel would be so aggressive.

" _Not in so many words_ ," Owen admitted. Claire rolled her eyes. She should be used to his embellishments by now as he so often overplayed their relationship. " _But that's definitely what he meant._ "

"Okay," said Claire. "The form is pretty standard; Daniel and I signed it when we were together too. It just says that we are consenting adults and the company isn't responsible or liable for anything that happens between. They just don't want us to sue when we break up."

" _'When we break up,'_ " he repeated with a scoff. " _Are you hearing this, Mark? You see what I have to deal with? 'When we break up'..._ "

"Yeah, that was pretty harsh," Mark agreed with a laugh. "I guess that means you've got to step up your game."

Claire rolled her eyes, smiling a little. "You know what I meant."

" _Oh, I'm stepping it up. I'm going to go buy a ring right now; if only so that we can shove it in McPherson's face_."

Claire froze in shock. Mark looked equally surprised.

"You can't propose to me over the phone, Owen," Claire said, recovering herself and finding her sense of humor.

" _I can fake propose to you any way I want_ ," he argued. " _You don't have to say yes, but then that would be letting McPherson win. You wouldn't want that, would you?_ "

Mark laughed. "That's a good trick."

"Okay, I have to go," Claire said. "We're discussing finances and if you want me to be on time for dinner, we've got to get back to it."

" _Speaking of finances, I need a raise. I just found out I have to propose to my girlfriend to piss off her ex._ "

"You're very funny," she said dryly.

" _Well, it's either this or I knock you up. Which I'm okay with, truthfully. Doing that will be more fun than ring shopping._ "

"Okay, bye!" she said quickly, thoroughly embarrassed now, and hung up on him.

Mark was trying to contain his laughter, shaking his head.

"I'm very sorry about that," she said, regaining her composure. "He's very...eccentric."

Mark smiled and shrugged. "He's just got a good sense of humor. And he seems to care a lot about you."

She smiled shyly. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"He's a lucky man," he said softly, smiling that crooked smile of his. He cleared his throat and sat up in his chair again.

"So about this charge, here..." he said as they began working their way through his notes again.

Claire tried very hard to stifle her smile and ignore her blush.

...

When Claire arrived at the restaurant that evening, she spotted Owen sitting at a high top, talking with a woman standing next to him, her back turned slightly to Claire. She recognized the woman as his ex from the New Year's Eve party - Lisa. She watched them for a moment before approaching, trying to determine the tone of conversation. When she saw Owen's mouth form the word "stop" with a firm expression on his face, she figured they were arguing about something.

She wondered how she should handle this, trying to think of what Owen would do if the roles were reversed. She smirked as a plan formed in her head. She made her expression as blank as possible and rushed toward the table. Owen turned as she approached, appearing concerned by her determination.

She heaved a great sigh as she got closer and maneuvered herself in front of Lisa. In what she hoped looked like one fluid motion, she placed her purse down on top of the table, hard, stood between his parted legs as he sat on the bar stool, and brought her hands up to Owen's face, kissing him soundly on the lips. He froze, stunned. She pulled back, still holding his face.

"I had such a bad day," she said sadly. She kissed him again. "I had back to back meetings" - she worked her arms out of her coat - "two of which were with investors" - she tossed her jacket over the back of the chair next to her - "who always ask such stupid questions." She placed both hands on his cheeks again and pulled herself closer to him, kissing him harder this time which seemed to elicit a response from him, finally. "And the third was with the advertising team" - another kiss - "who keep telling us we need to go bigger" - he brought his hands down to her waist as she kissed him again - "which just means they want a bigger budget." She upped the ante with her next kiss, pulling his bottom lip lightly and briefly with her teeth. "I didn't have time for lunch" - another kiss, she sucked on his bottom lip this time - "so I'm starving." He moved his hands to her back, pulling her flush against him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand tangling in his hair and the other massaging his back. "Then the CFO wanted to talk to me and he wants to completely revamp the way we process invoices with our vendors." She kissed him lightly. "And all I wanted" - kiss - "all day" - kiss - "was to come here" - another kiss, and she felt his fingers flex on her lower back - "and see you" - kiss - "and kiss you."

When they kissed again, he brought one of his hands up to the back of her head, holding her in place, forcing a longer and more intimate kiss. She felt his tongue graze her bottom lip as he pulled it into his mouth.

She pulled back, breathless. "So feed me," she demanded, trying to get back into character, "and then take me home and make me forget about today."

He brought his forehead down to hers and she noticed his eyes were closed and his breathing was slightly heavier than normal.

"I have a better idea," he said. "Screw the food. Let me take you home now."

She laughed and pulled away from him. "I didn't have lunch, remember? I'm starving."

"I'm hungry too, but suddenly it's not for food," he said. She tried to ignore how husky his voice was, how his lips were pink from her attention, and how his pupils were wide with attraction.

She pulled herself up into the chair next to him and looked around, surprised to see they were now alone at their table. When had Lisa left and how had she not noticed?

"Well I was having a pretty shitty day too until about two minutes ago," Owen said jokingly, bringing her attention back to him.

"Where'd she go?" Claire asked, glancing around again.

"Lisa? Who cares?"

"That was for her benefit," she said. "When did she walk away?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you," he said, smiling smugly at her. "That, my darling Claire, was an excellent greeting. You can say hello to me like that anytime you want."

She gave him a tired smile. "So, Daniel..."

"And you killed it," he said, his smile dropping, "just like that." He snapped his fingers.

"It's a gift," she said with a shrug. "So he just came by and said he wanted us to sign the form?"

"He tried calling me in my office," he said. "And I told him I would need to talk to you about it and we'd get back to him. And then, yeah, he just showed up with the form a little while later. He was saying stuff like this would prove I was serious about you and if I wasn't willing to commit then I should end things with you now so you could move on and find someone who could actually take care of you."

"Take care of me?" she asked incredulously.

Owen nodded. "Yeah, it was more insulting for me, the way he said it. It was like he was saying I was mooching off of you or something. And then I told him our relationship really wasn't any of his business, then he pulled the whole Head of Human Resources bull shit...blah, blah, blah...and then I finally told him that if he didn't leave I was going to kick his ass."

She gave him a suspicious look. "What happened during the 'blah, blah, blah'?"

He shrugged and sipped the beer he had in front of him.

"He just kept pushing me, you know?" he said, leaning forward on to the table. "So finally I just..."

"What?" she asked quietly, worried. Had he gotten violent? Did he take a swing at him?

"I told him that I love you," he said with a shy smile. "And I told him I was sorry he was too much of a dumb fuck to see what an amazing woman you are and so he broke it off with you. But that I wasn't going to make the same mistake so he needed to learn to deal with that and move on."

Claire stared, silent. What was she supposed to say to that? He told someone he loved her? Her ex boyfriend, no less.

"Which means that when this does end," he said awkwardly, "you'll have to be the one that breaks it off. That'll have to be the story, anyway...since I'm hopelessly in love with you."

"Fake in love with me," she said in barely a whisper.

He took another swig from his bottle, nodding. "Right," he said after he swallowed.

"Well, that's..." she began.

Before she could finish saying whatever awkward ending she was sure to come up with, a server came by, saving them from their conversation. And after placing a quick order, Owen changed the subject to a funny story about the raptors.

* * *

 **Ugh. I just love writing this story. Please leave a review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**I do my best to reward good behavior - and you all have been very good readers! Thank you so much for the reviews from the last chapter and those who are adding this story to their alerts and favorites. Please enjoy this next chapter - its a bit of a filler, but I had fun with it. =]**

* * *

Claire set up a meeting with Daniel the following Monday to sign the form. She and Owen had finally gotten around to discussing it the day before. She had considered not signing and breaking the fake relationship off, but after weighing the pros and cons with Owen, they agreed that after his fake confession of love, they should keep the game up for a little while longer.

"You had to wear _that_ skirt," Owen groaned as they stood outside Daniel's office, staring out the large window in the hallway.

"I thought you liked this skirt?"she asked, smirking as she smoothed down the green fabric. The skirt hugged her waist and hips, smoothing perfectly over the shape of her ass before flaring out delicately at her knees.

Owen wrapped his arm low around Claire's waist - for the benefit of Daniel's secretary, she figured - and pulled her flush against his side.

"Maybe we should be making out when he comes out," Owen suggested innocently. "I've recently found out you're very fun to kiss."

"Only just recently?" she asked, pretending to be offended.

He hummed a little. "Every time we'd kissed before it was for so short a time," he explained. "Last time was..." He trailed off. She peered up at him and saw a soft smile on his lips and his eyes distant.

She smiled, proud of herself. "Glad to see I've left an impression."

"Oh, believe me-"

"Ah, and here's the park's most buzzed about couple," Daniel's voice interrupted them from behind. "You two are looking extra adorable today, I must say."

Claire watched Daniel as he approached them, suspicious of his seemingly polite tone.

"Adorable _is_ what we aim for," Owen replied wittingly.

"Well then you're succeeding. Shall we?" Daniel led the way inside his office and indicated to the two chairs in front of his desk for them to sit in.

"So this form will be familiar to Claire," Daniel said, pulling out files from his desk drawer. "I looked you up, Mr. Grady, and was surprised to see you hadn't ever filled one out with anyone."

"What can I say? No one's been worth it until now." His smile toward Daniel was incredibly strained. Claire resisted rolling her eyes to deflect his flattery.

"Wonderful," Daniel muttered with a sigh. "Did Claire explain this to you?" He handed them each a form and pulled two pens from a mug on his desk.

"Yes," Owen answered, quickly reviewing the paper just as Claire was. "Basically we're promising not to sue."

Daniel smiled. "It's a bit more in depth than that, but yes, that's essentially the point. We want to ensure that this is a safe environment for not only the two of you but all of the employees here."

"Okay, whatever," Owen said, sighing. "Let's just sign this and be done."

The three of them were silent as Claire and Owen began filling out the form separately.

After handing the forms back to Daniel, Owen and Claire stood. He smiled at her and grabbed her hand.

"It's official now, babe," he said with a wink.

"Don't call me that," she reminded him.

He chuckled softly and stepped forward to give her kiss. Daniel cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the affectionate display. It sort of thrilled Claire, so when she and Owen were leaving the office, she latched her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder - a sign of clinginess she had never allowed herself to do with Daniel. At the elevator - not sure if Daniel would see it or not - Claire wrapped her arms around Owen's neck and stood on her toes to kiss him.

"Vengeful ex," he muttered against her lips. "I love it."

She laughed as she pulled away from him.

...

"Claire!" Owen admonished as he walked up the hallway towards her office. She was standing in front of Zara's desk and both she and her assistant looked up in surprise. "You're not wearing green!" He continued as he stood before them, eyeing her cream colored dress.

"And you look like a leprechaun threw up on you," she said with a look of disgust as she looked him up and down. Between his dark green cargos and obnoxiously green button down, he looked like a walking clover.

"I tried to get her to wear my green cardigan," Zara said, speaking to Owen. "She doesn't think it's necessary."

"Put it on," Owen insisted.

She slapped the files she was holding down on the desk and turned to him angrily. "You want to say that a bit nicer?"

"It is St. Patrick's Day," he said with a quiet intensity. "You aren't wearing any green. Put. The damn. Sweater. _On._ "

Claire smiled tightly and leaned forward. "No," she said simply.

"I thought you would have been with her this morning," Zara said. "Why didn't you have her change?"

"I slept at my place last night," Owen said smoothly, still glaring at Claire. " _Someone_ threw me out."

" _Someone_ needs to get over it," Claire hissed.

"Put on something green or I will follow you around all day pinching your ass," he threatened.

"I'll suspend you," she countered, "for sexual harassment."

"Can I see the cardigan?" he asked Zara kindly, holding out his hand. She retrieved it from the back of her desk chair and tossed it to him. Owen held out the small jacket before him. "It's nice," he commented then looked to Claire. "Why won't you wear it?"

"Because I find it childish that on certain days of the year society wants everyone to wear a specific color or face the wrath of immature people such as yourself and their pinching fingers," she answered haughtily. She made pinching gestures in front of his face.

Owen smiled and let cardigan hang at his side. He brought his other hand slowly up to her bare arm, running it up to her shoulder.

"You're adorable," he said softly, his eyes watching his hand as it traveled back down her arm. "And beautiful - no matter what you're wearing."

Claire eyed him shrewdly, wary of his sudden shift in mood. She knew the affectionate display was for Zara's sake so she didn't pay much attention to his compliments.

He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. He pulled back and let his roaming hand move to her lower back where he then pulled her forward and kissed her again. She tried to pull away as she felt the pressure of his mouth. This was far too intense of a kiss for them to be sharing. Her poor assistant was only feet away from them! She placed her hands on his chest to push but he countered with his hand moving to the back of her head.

His mouth continued to move over hers, tugging and sucking gently on her lips. She stopped fighting. Actually, everything sort of stopped for her - her breathing, for example. She became acutely aware of his facial hair tickling her upper lip, of the softness of his lower lip as it made its way between hers, of the texture of his tongue as it briefly tasted her lips.

In the back of her mind she knew something was wrong. She could feel parts of her body moving but as her eyes were closed and her lips were occupied in a delicious kiss, she couldn't quite bring herself to focus on what was happening. That is, until she felt his fingers wrapping around her wrists and sliding her hands away from his chest. Her brain, an annoying puddle of mush at that moment, was slowly piecing together what was happening and when she figured it out, she smiled against his kiss.

He was putting her arms through the sleeves of the cardigan. She let him. He was still kissing her, after all. She was even nice enough to make it a little easier for him, pulling her shoulders back and straightening her arms behind her. He was smiling now too. He got the cardigan up to her shoulders and brought his hands down to her waist. He maneuvered the two of them, turning towards her office door and walking her backwards in that direction.

"Hold her calls," he called quickly to Zara as he opened the door.

"No-" Claire tried to say but Owen quickly cut her off with his lips as he walked them into her office and shut the door.

"She's going to think we're having sex," Claire complained. She noted he still hadn't let go of her waist.

"Good," he said. "I like you in green."

"Are you proud of yourself?" she asked with a sly smile and a shrug of her shoulders to indicate the cardigan.

"Very," he answered smugly. "You could have worn that green skirt today and avoided all of this."

"But then you wouldn't have gotten the chance to kiss me," she teased. She pulled out of his arms and walked to her desk.

"That was a bit more than a kiss," he said. "It was nice. We should do that more often."

She looked up to see him with his hands in his pockets and a happy grin on his face. She ignored her blush and turned her attention to her computer screen.

"So, Cameron's party starts at eight. I'm thinking I'll get to your place at eight and we'll go from there," he said. "That way we'll be fashionably late."

"I don't like being late," she said.

"It's a party. The start time is just a guideline," he said like it was obvious.

"Ok, fine," she replied. She'd learned he could be just as stubborn as she was. She picked her battles carefully with him. "I'll see you at eight."

He walked back to her door and opened it, allowing his voice to travel out to the hallway. "Come by my office later if you feel like returning the favor," he called to her with a playful wink, insinuating he'd performed a sexual act for her benefit.

She glared at him and shook her head. "Only in your dreams, _darling_ ," she returned angrily.

"You'd think you'd be in a better mood after a little morning delight," he said. "I know I am."

"Get out!" she yelled in embarrassment. He was taking this too far.

"Later, princess." He quickly shut the door before she could throw something at him.

...

"Are you going to be mad at me all night?" he asked as they entered the party.

He was eleven minutes late to her apartment that night and after the events from this morning, she was none too pleased with him.

"I might be," she said through gritted teeth.

"You know, usually after orgasm people are happy. You don't play that part very well."

"I'm going to throw my drink in your face if you keep talking to me about this," she threatened.

"If this were a real relationship and you were really my girlfriend, I'd back off and give you space to calm down. But since it's not and the risk of breaking up isn't actually there, I'm going to try something new," he said.

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"I'm going to try to make it up to you," he said with a bright smile.

She raised her eyebrows and fought her smile at the thought. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"No idea," he admitted. "Truthfully, I've never really had to do this before."

"Because you're the most perfect boyfriend in the world?" she said doubtfully.

"Probably not in the _entire_ world, but close."

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him. She scanned the room for people she knew.

"Hey," he said softly to bring her attention back to him. She felt his hand on the small of her back. "I'm sorry if I pushed too far. I promised I wouldn't do anything that you were uncomfortable with and I went and did that anyway." She stared at him with widened eyes. "I screwed up and I'm sorry. I know you don't like all the PDA and you'd normally like to keep things like your sex life and relationships private. I shouldn't have made those comments. If it makes you feel any better, I'm almost positive Zara knows nothing happened in your office. She knows you well enough to know that's not your style and people know that I like to joke. I'm sure she knew I was just messing around."

"Thank you," she said thickly when she was able to find her voice. The man knew how to apologize at least. "You're right, that did make me uncomfortable. But it's nice to know you can admit when you've done something wrong."

He let out a heavy exhale. "God, it's awful." He grimaced. "I hated that. I don't like it. From now on, I'm always right. Even when I'm wrong - I'm right."

She smiled and patted his cheek with her hand. "Sure you are, honey," she pacified him.

He smiled and kissed her on the cheek before clapping his hands together. "Alright, Cameron promised me green beer. Do you want anything?"

"Wine. Just make sure it's a normal color, please," she requested. He left her then and she began to mingle with the other guests.

...

Owen was off somewhere talking with David Brines and some others about the island's carnivorous creatures. Claire had found Zara and a group of women she socialized with on occasion.

"So how are things with you and _raptor-man?_ " one of the women, Laura, asked her.

"We're fine," Claire answered casually.

"How did you two get together anyway?" Cammie asked curiously. "I've never seen you with a guy like him."

"He wore me down," she replied with a smile and a sly look to Zara. Her assistant smirked and took a sip of her wine.

"He's very good looking," Melissa observed, nudging her head to the right of the group. Claire hadn't noticed Owen had moved into their line of sight. "How's the sex?"

" _Melissa!_ " Zara scolded her friend.

"What? We're all curious," Melissa defended herself. "Better than Daniel, I'm betting," she said conspiratorially to Claire.

Claire couldn't help the blush on her cheeks. She tried to hide her face behind her wine glass but that only made the other women laugh.

"It _is_ , isn't it?" Laura said. "It's not surprising. Daniel exudes dullness. I bet he would be very vanilla in the sack."

"Come on, Claire," Cammie urged. "Give us some details!"

Zara couldn't stop her giggling, even while apologizing to her boss.

"He's very..." Claire began, completely mortified, "passionate."

"Is he just...insatiable?"

"How long have you been together?"

"How did it first happen?"

"You look adorable together."

"He's not your usual type."

"I bet he's funny. Is he funny?"

"How big is it?"

" _Seriously_ , Melissa?"

"Is he a good kisser?"

"He was kissing her this morning and I think _I_ was swooning," Zara interjected.

"But really, what are we dealing with here? Eight inches? Nine?"

"He's got that bad boy thing going for him."

"He's a Navy man, isn't he?"

"Ten inches? _More?_ "

"Is he nice to you, at least? If he's not nice then it doesn't matter how good looking he is."

"Where was your first date?"

"Don't tell me it's small."

Claire made eye contact with Owen and pleaded wordlessly for his help.

"There you are," he said as he reached her side. "Can I steal you away for a bit?"

"Happily," she sighed.

"Wait!" Cammie stopped them. "We have a few questions for you first, Mr. Grady."

"It's a trap," Claire warned. "Run away."

"We just want to make sure you're being good to our friend, here," Laura said casually as if she wasn't just asking about his sex drive. "You are being nice to her, aren't you?"

"I like to think so," Owen answered with a charming smile. "I know I made her mad today but I think I've made up for it."

"I bet you have," Melissa muttered.

"Sorry?" Owen asked. Melissa shook her head and took a sip of her beer, a blush forming on her cheeks.

"How'd you ask her out?" Laura asked. "Claire hasn't been very forthcoming."

"To be far, you've hardly given her a chance to speak," Zara said in her defense.

"Well, when Claire and I first started talking she was still dating McPherson," Owen said.

Cammie let out a sound of disgust. "We hated Daniel," Melissa agreed.

"Oh good! I hate him too," Owen said happily. "So anyway, I kept flirting with her and telling her to ditch that loser." He wrapped his arm around Claire's shoulder and smiled down at her. "She wouldn't, which was very annoying. But when they finally broke up I asked her out."

"She says you wore her down," Cammie said.

"Yeah, well, I guess she wasn't convinced I was worth her time," he continued. "I had to convince her that I'm actually kind of a catch."

She smiled warmly at him. "Kind of," she agreed teasingly. He leant down for a quick peck on her lips.

"So cute," Laura cooed.

"Please, save me," she whispered desperately. Melissa and Zara laughed as Owen steered her away, pulling her towards the bar for another glass of wine. "My hero," she sighed as he handed her a drink.

"What was the problem?" he asked with a laugh.

"They were bombarding me with all these questions about the two of us," she explained. "Are you having to deal with this? Are people asking you about our sex life?"

He shrugged a little. "Sometimes. You pretty much told my entire crowd that I'm satisfying you already, though, at that block party." He smiled cheekily. "So what are they asking you?"

"How it first happened; how often; how...big," she said with a furious blush. Owen smiled and laughed a little. "It doesn't bother you at all, does it?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "No. It's cute to see you bothered, though."

"Shut up," she said, trying to force the redness to leave her cheeks. There were a lot of people around, though, and the air conditioning was having trouble keeping up with all the body heat. "What am I supposed to say to these kinds of things? We've never actually had sex."

"Well that can be fixed. Easily," he said seriously. "You want me to go clear out a closet or bathroom somewhere?"

"You're not helping," she groaned.

He laughed lightly and pulled her into his chest. "McPherson's watching us," he whispered in her ear. She felt his lips press against her neck and then her shoulder, pacing over the green straps of her dress. She'd changed, much to Owen's delight, into a dark green dress with some black sequins littered at the bottom hem around her knees.

"We don't have to have sex for you to have answers to those questions," he said softly. He'd pulled back to able to look her in the eye. They were still very close. She began toying with his green shamrock tie. "Let's say we average sex three times a week - but I would do it everyday if you let me, naturally, because I find it very hard to keep my hands off you." He put his hands on her hips and slid them up to her waist, his fingers twitching, she noticed. "I usually stay over at your place because mine is small. We had sex after our fourth date - you didn't want to be a cliché third-date girlfriend." His mouth pulled up at the side in a smile. "The sex is great. Definitely better than with McPherson," he said seriously. "That's a must."

She smiled and nodded. "I can work with that...and believe it, unfortunately," she added with a heavy sigh.

Owen chuckled softly. He ran a hand through her short hair and brought it down to the back of her neck. He kissed her again and, remembering that Daniel might be watching, she gripped his tie tighter and lifted herself onto her toes, leaning into him.

"I do enjoy kissing you," he said against her mouth.

"So you've said," she breathed. "You're not so bad yourself."

He kissed her again quickly then pulled back and took a sip of his green beer.

"Anything else?" he asked her. Claire shook her head. "Oh!" Owen said, remembering something. His expression became one of lazy confidence. "Size."

"I really don't need to know that," she assured him quickly.

"They're going to ask," he said. "Some already have, apparently."

"I'll say it's none of their business," she replied. "I don't want to know."

"You're not a little curious?" he questioned.

She shook her head. "Nope."

"Good," he said simply while smiling such an annoyingly salacious smile. He grabbed his beer and just before taking a sip he winked and said "Knowing would keep you up at night, anyway."

"So much confidence," she muttered.

"I have learned throughout my exploits, my darling Claire, that it is not the size but rather the skill that matters most," he declared knowingly. "Having both has always just been a bonus." He leaned against the bar with another cheeky smile.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Skill is a tricky thing to define, though, wouldn't you say?" She took a sip of her wine before placing the glass back down and shuffling forward to once again play with his tie. "What's good for one woman isn't always good for the next. We are all different, as I'm sure you've figured out by now - what with all your... _exploits_."

"That's why it's so important to take your time," Owen said. His finger grazed across the skin of her cheek and down to her neck and shoulder. "The trick is to learn every spot, every touch" - his finger ran down her arm to her hand where he grasped her fingers and brought them to his face - "with my hands" - he pressed a light kiss to the pad on her index finger - "and mouth" - another kiss to her middle finger - "and my tongue" - her ring finger was next - "before any intercourse takes place." He laced his fingers through hers and drew her ever closer, his hand pressed to the small of her back. "All that will give me enough knowledge moving forward that by the time we actually have sex, I know everything that makes you tick. I know how fast you want it. Or how slow. I know how rough or how tender. I know how deep you want me to push. I know the sounds you make when you come. And I know how your body feels as it comes undone."

She was shocked silent by his erotic words and the throaty whisper he used to talk to her. She found herself staring at his lips and forced her eyes to jerk back up to his.

"You're very good at this," she admitted with a slow smile. "It's almost a shame you'll never get to prove yourself with me."

"Never say never, sweetheart," he joked.

"Is Daniel still watching us?" she asked him casually, eyeing his tie as she worked it around her fingers.

"He's nearby," Owen said. "Why?"

Claire tilted her head up, finding his lips, and kissed him slowly.

* * *

 **I love flirty Claire and flirty Owen. Please review and let me know what you think! Thanks again for your support!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you once again for the reviews your sending me!**

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Claire was not looking forward to the night's events. She sighed heavily before entering one of the island's largest bars. She'd forgotten what the occasion was - someone's birthday, an anniversary, a sports team's triumph; something that held very little interest to her - but she'd promised to go nonetheless. Owen had done a lot for her lately. He was proving himself to be the world's greatest fake boyfriend so she owed him one. He was very adamant about her being in debt to him. And what with all his attending functions with her, talking her up in front of others, and all their fake dates, she could hardly disagree.

But still. It was a cheap, sleazy bar. Honestly, she couldn't see how it fit in with the other entertainment venues offered on the island or why on God's green earth it was so popular with the tourists and employees.

Mental note: she should get a fake trophy for Owen with "World's Greatest Fake Boyfriend" engraved on it. She was sure he'd get a kick out of that. Of course that would then leave physical proof of their fake relationship, so perhaps she won't.

Once inside the bar she took note of all the bodies crammed inside. It seemed like everyone on the island all had the same idea to go to that bar this very night. _Lovely_.

She began making her way around the perimeter of the large room, hoping to spot Owen in the crowd. She finally found him standing around a booth that was packed full far past capacity and the surrounding area was particularly dense with people as well. She began the slow weave in and out of people as she made her way towards him. He was laughing and chatting away so he didn't see her until she was almost right next to him.

"Hey, hey! You made it!" he greeted her happily.

"I said I'd be here," she responded tightly.

"Nice to see you again, Claire," Barry said over the music. He smiled and a gave a short nod.

"You too, Barry," she said. "Has he been behaving himself?"

"Far more than he usually does," he answered.

"Seriously, what have you done to him?" Amber asked. Claire hadn't noticed she was there until she spoke up. She was obviously joking as she made a face at Owen's good-natured eye roll.

"Come on, I'll get you a drink," Owen said. He grabbed her hand and lead the way through the masses towards the bar.

"Thanks for coming," he said when they were separated from their group and waiting at the bar for service. "I know this isn't your kind of thing."

"I've never felt more claustrophobic in my life," she declared loudly, disgruntled.

"You should try living on a submarine for eighteen months," he countered. "Anyway, you don't need to stay long. I just knew Lisa was going to be here tonight and if you didn't show up for at least part of it she'd start pestering me."

"Right," she said. "Ex girlfriend deterrent. I'm on it." She gave a weak thumbs up which he still smiled at.

"Best deterrent there is," he said. "You look good, by the way."

She glanced down at her outfit - skinny jeans, white, fitted, button down shirt with cuffed sleeves at her elbows, and her black pointed pumps. It was too simple of an outfit, she thought, to warrant a compliment. She glanced back up at him with a curious expression but he was busy trying to get the attention of the bartender.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "I don't know. What's that?" she asked, nodding at the bottle in his hand.

"Stella," he answered. "You want to try it?"

"I'll take one and if I don't like it you can drink it," she said.

"Never thought I'd see you drink a beer," he said. He finally got the bartender to look over at him. He raised his bottle and held up two fingers with the other hand.

"I figured I should try to fit in," she said.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" he finally asked her. She knew she hadn't been subtle.

"I'm just tired," she lied.

"So go," he said simply. "You don't have to be here."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't. Really, it's fine if you want to go."

She eyed him skeptically for a moment. "No, I'm supposed to be ex girlfriend repellant."

"I can handle ex girlfriends," he assured her. "I can't handle you being grumpy all night."

"I won't be grumpy," she insisted, her tone, however, said otherwise.

"Claire," he said seriously. "Go home."

The bartender put the two bottles in front of them. She quickly grabbed one and took a sip. She grimaced. "That's awful."

He laughed. "Let's get you something else, then. Or - no! Just go home. Drink your fancy wine. Leave me and my disgusting beer here to fend for ourselves against the wrath of girlfriends past."

She took another gulp. "I'm drinking this. And I'm staying," she said firmly. "I owe you, as you not so kindly pointed out yesterday."

"Well that _is_ true but I'm sure I can find another way to cash in on that. There's bound to be something else that comes up."

"I'm here. I'm drinking. I redid my makeup for this. I'm staying," she told him. She took another sip. It was starting to get less awful the more she drank it.

"Alright. Let's try to have some fun, though, okay?" he urged her. "My buddy just signed his divorce papers this morning. We're supposed to be celebrating the end of a terrible marriage."

" _That's_ why we're here?" Owen nodded with a quick smile before finishing off his original bottle of beer and grabbing the fresh one off the bar. "That's horrible."

He shrugged. "Not our lives. Let people live and do what they want, I say."

She shrugged, not caring enough to make any more fuss, and took another sip.

"Easy, there," he said. "It's not the strongest, but if you chug it it'll hit you quick."

"Maybe I want it to hit me."

"Alright, fine. Have at it."

She could tell he was getting more and more irritated with her bad mood. He began making his way back to the group and she begrudgingly followed. He introduced her to a few different people and became absorbed in conversations about things she didn't know anything about like football games and beers. She couldn't contribute so she pulled out her phone and began reading through emails and her schedule, eventually pulling up news websites and checking out current events around the world. She knew she wasn't being the best fake girlfriend she could be. She felt guilty about it, knowing he always put a full effort in for her events. She told herself that looping her arm through his and leaning her head against his shoulder as she continued looking at her cell was enough.

Eventually, the quick downing of her beer caught up with her and she excused herself to use the restroom. As she was finishing up in her stall she heard a group of women coming in, chattering loudly until they reached the slightly quieter restroom.

"Who are you talking about?" one asked, clearly confused.

"Owen and Claire!" another answered impatiently.

She froze. She could leave her stall now and cut them off before they said something she'd rather not hear, or she could wait and listen to the gossip.

"I think you need to let it go," a third said.

"Does it not drive anyone else crazy?" the second one asked incredulously. "She's so wrong for him!"

Okay, she'd hear them out.

"They seem happy to me," one of them said.

"Have you not been watching them tonight?"

"No, Lisa, we're not all obsessed like you are," another said snidely.

 _Lisa!_

"I'm not _obsessed_ ," she replied indignantly. "All I'm saying is, they don't fit. I mean, did _anyone_ see that coming? Owen Grady and Claire Dearing?"

"It's definitely a weird mix," one said with a small chuckle. "She doesn't seem like she's happy to be here tonight."

"Thank you!" Lisa exclaimed. "She doesn't fit in with this group. She walks around like she's so much better than everyone else. And Owen is so whipped."

"No he's not," said the one who had called Lisa on her jealously a moment ago. Claire thought it sounded like Amber. "He just really likes her. I think he's in love, actually."

Someone made a noise of disgust - Lisa, most likely.

"I heard they signed the relationship disclosure with HR."

" _What?_ " Lisa asked. "When we were dating he wouldn't even tell his mother about me."

Someone snorted in laughter.

"Shut up, Amber," she snapped.

Yep. Amber.

"Whatever. I give it another month - tops," Lisa continued. "You can tell by the way she's acting tonight. She's about to toss him to the side." There was a small lull before Lisa pressed on. "Look, I can tell he's really into her. And when they break up, he's going to be really hurt. And despite all the shit that happened between me and him, I don't want to see him go through that. She thinks she's better than him," she said knowingly. "And she's just... _not_."

"You don't know how she feels," Amber appealed. "But even if that is what's going on, it shouldn't get to you this much. You're dating Jackson - you need to stop focusing so much on Owen before it starts causing problems between the two of you."

"It just bugs me!" Lisa groaned. "I just want to go up to him and be like 'Don't you see what's happening? She doesn't love you!'"

Okay. That was enough.

Claire opened the stall door and calmly made her way to the sinks. The three girls gaped and blushed in embarrassment. Claire smiled kindly at them as if she hadn't heard a word of what they were saying.

"Having fun?" she asked them as she dried her hands. "It's so crowded out there." She looked at her reflection - calm, cool, collected. She ran her fingers through her hair and smoothed it back in place to frame her face.

Without saying a word, Lisa and the third woman left the restroom. Amber stayed put, still surprised to see her, Claire suspected.

"So Lisa has a problem with me," she said casually.

"She's jealous," Amber said flatly.

Claire nodded. "She seems like a nice girl. It's a shame she can't just be happy for Owen. I think that's all he wishes for her."

"Yeah, well, Lisa's never been good with letting go. You should ask Owen about the guy she dated before him. He had to deal with her still focusing on him."

Claire smiled at Amber, finally looking away from the mirror. "Well, I should get back out there. Thanks for saying all you did in defense of me and him. That was sweet of you."

She left the restroom with her head held high and strutted confidently up to Owen. Or at least, as confidently as she could as she weaved in and out of the other patrons. When she reached his side she raised herself up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Still involved in a conversation about cars, he looked at her and smiled before leaning down for a quick peck on the lips.

As his conversation continued and she had nothing to contribute, she began running one hand across his lower back as the other picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. Eventually, he wrapped his arm around her and let his fingers slide over her shoulder repeatedly.

This had to look better, she figured. If Lisa was watching...surely they looked like a happier couple now. Of course Lisa would know why Claire, having heard what she had said, would act differently now.

"That beer kick in or something?" Owen asked her when he was able to pull away from the guys around them.

Claire merely smiled, not wanting to get into why her behavior changed. She reach her hands up and smoothed down some wayward whiskers in his growing beard.

"Are you growing this out or have you just been lazy?" she asked humorously.

"I'm trying to see what you'll let me get away with," he teased. "I need to cut it." He scratched his neck then used the same hand to tug lightly at a lock of her hair. "What about you, huh? Are you growing yours out?"

She shook her head. "No, it's at just the right length now." She raised her hands back to her head and smoothed her hair down.

Owen nodded. "Yeah, you look nice."

Amber approached them and placed a hand on Claire's shoulder. "I'm getting out of here; I just wanted to come say bye," she explained. She stared kindly at Claire. "Don't let what Lisa said get to you. She's just..." - she rolled her eyes - "psychotic."

Claire smiled politely. "It's fine."

"Wait, Lisa?" Owen asked, his eyebrows raised as he leaned in closer to hear over the music. "What happened?"

Amber looked nervously to Claire. She had obviously thought Claire would have told Owen. "Nothing," she deflected. "Just Lisa being Lisa. You know how she can be."

"What did she do?" he asked seriously, looking to Claire for an answer.

"She was just talking some trash," Amber answered. "It really wasn't a big deal. Claire handled it perfectly."

She smiled at Amber. She was quickly coming to like this woman.

"What'd she say?" Owen asked. Claire could hear the anger in his tone.

"Sorry," Amber said quietly to her. "Good luck. And good night!" And with that, she left them.

"What happened?" Owen asked again.

Claire rolled her eyes. "It's nothing, Owen, really. Can I get another beer?" she asked, hoping to distract him.

"If you don't tell me I'm going to go find Lisa and have her tell me," he said, ignoring her request.

"When I was in the restroom, she came in with Amber and another girl and she was just saying that you and I don't make sense together," she explained tiredly. "She seems to think that I don't care about you and that you're..." She hesitated. "She thinks I've got you whipped."

He was staring at her with such furious concentration she wasn't sure what he was thinking. She placed her hands on his chest. She could practically feel the tension rolling off of him.

"Owen, it's nothing. I'm sure lots of people think we don't belong together," she said patiently. "Amber was very nice about it. She was defending us."

He shook his head and began glancing around the bar, looking for his ex no doubt.

"Hey," she called to him, bringing his gaze back to her. "It's not a big deal." She ran her hands back and forth from his chest to his shoulders, attempting to soothe him.

"I'll get you another drink," he said finally. "She shouldn't be saying that kind of shit."

Claire shrugged as they made their way back to the bar. "It's fine." As they stood once again waiting for the bartender's attention, Claire looked around the still tightly packed crowd. "She's not entirely wrong," she said offhandedly.

"What do you mean?" Owen asked critically.

"We don't look like we belong together," she answered.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well..." she began with trepidation. "I mean, look at the women you hang out with." She gestured back to the large group of people. The majority of the women in that group (and throughout the bar, truthfully) were dressed in some article of clothing that either showed off their cleavage, their legs, or both.

"What about them?" Owen asked.

"Now look at me," she said. She indicated to her covered body.

"What? They dress slutty?" he asked.

"I'm not saying they're slutty," she said firmly. She didn't like to label women like that. "But they're clearly letting their looks work for them. I don't really do that."

"Who gives a shit about what you wear?" he asked.

" _Men_ ," Claire stated obviously. "Men give a shit. That," she pointed at the group, "is far more likely to get attention over this." She pointed at herself. "So as a man," she poked him in the chest, "people think that you should be interested in that. You know, hot girls, and whatever."

He stared at her for a moment in disbelief then gestured wildly, almost as if in outrage. "Claire, you are _gorgeous_ ," he stressed. She rolled her eyes but he continued. "No, really. You make men stupid."

"Stop," she said, trying not to smile.

"I'm serious."

"Why would I want to make men stupid?"

"I'm not saying you want to," he said. "I'm just saying that's what happens. If you wanted it, you could ask a guy for the world and he'd go mad-scientist-super-villain...evil-genius to get it for you."

"You don't seem to be so stupid," she pointed out.

"Well, I happen to be a higher caliber of man," he said proudly with a cocky grin. "But I'm not entirely immune. You've dumbed me down a few times."

"So would you take over the world for me?" she asked playfully.

"In a heartbeat. If you wanted it, I'd do it. And I've got military connections so..." He appeared to seriously consider a thought for a moment. "Yeah, I could definitely take over the world."

She laughed lightly and looked to the crowd. She spotted Lisa out of the corner of her eye and noticed her watching them.

"She's looking over here," Claire muttered.

Owen sighed heavily and lifted up his bottle, checking how much was left. He raised the rim to his lips and finished the drink off in one gulp. He put the bottle down on the bar top with enough force that Claire heard the thump of glass against wood over the loud music.

"Ok," he said, resigned. "I'm going to make out with you now."

She stared up at him in surprise and then took a small step back at the predatory look that crossed his eye.

"Make out?" she asked, happy to find her voice didn't shake with nerves. She could handle that.

Owen nodded once and took a step towards her; she took another back.

"Yeah," he said simply. "You got a problem with that?

She shook her head, smirking a little as she continued to walk backwards until she hit a wall. Owen continued his slow strides and without a pause to verify permission or to add any sort of suspense, he stooped down to kiss her as soon as he was in reach.

It was a searing kiss. He had one hand on her lower back and another low on her hip. She could feel his fingers gripping into her jeans on the side of her ass. He was pressing the lower part of her body into his. That, combined with the pressure of his mouth on hers, bending her backwards, made it a less than comfortable position.

But at that moment she didn't feel like complaining much.

He opened her mouth with his. Again, no hesitation. No nibbling of the lips or a light caress of his tongue against her mouth to ask for entrance. He dominated the moment. He took full control. His tongue lapped and danced against hers and his hands were surely leaving burn marks on her clothes from the heat she felt.

She wouldn't have minded - seriously, it had been a _long_ time since someone had kissed her with that much passion - if only her back hadn't started screaming in protest of the angle he had her in. So she pushed back...with her mouth, naturally. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him harder, forcing his upper body to move back.

Once she was back in a nearly upright position, she was able to be a more active participant. She kept one hand on the back of his neck and the other she brought around to the front color of his shirt, gripping the material, keeping him in place. She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, sucking lightly before opening her mouth once more for their tongues to meet. His hands traveled up her sides and stopped slightly higher than her waist. She could feel his thumbs dangerously close to the underside of her breasts.

He pulled back so they could catch their breath. She stared up into his eyes and thought they looked a little fearful or wary, perhaps. Maybe he was just as surprised as she was at the heat of their kiss. He let his forehead drop down to hers.

"Is she still looking over here?" he asked in a rather husky tone.

His eyes were closed. She didn't bother looking around for Lisa. She kissed him again, her chest rising into his and her hand on his cheek. His grip on her sides flexed before he let one and fall back to her hip.

"Damn it, Claire," he said, breaking away from her. "I told you, you could make me stupid."

"I think I'm beginning to understand the benefits of that," she laughed breathlessly.

He leaned back and fixed her with a hard stare, then brought his hands up to her face and tilted her head forward slightly to kiss her forehead. They stared at each other again, seemingly unsure of what to do next. After a moment, they both started chuckling.

"I can't believe we just did that," she said, hiding her face in her hands and leaning her head to rest against his shoulder.

"You know what? Let's just get out of here," he said. "I'll walk you to your car."

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking back up. "I'll stay."

"No, let's go. A divorce is a depressing reason to be celebrating anyway."

She agreed. He grabbed her hand and walked her back to the group so he could say goodbye. She waved at Barry who smiled kindly at her. She hadn't had a one on one conversation with him since she found out he knows their relationship is fake. He never implied to her that he knew. Perhaps he was just as good at Owen was at keeping up the facade. She knew where Lisa was standing but ignored looking in her direction as they said their goodbyes.

Outside the bar, Claire felt like she could finally breath again. Between the crowd and kissing Owen, she'd felt very compressed for the last hour or so.

"My car is parked in the back," she told him. "Where are you?"

"Same," he said. Together they walked up the road to the alley where they would be able to enter the behind-the-scenes area of the park that the employees used to get around but was kept hidden from the guests.

"I'm sorry about Lisa," he said quietly as they walked side by side.

"I don't take what she said to heart," she told him. "Women have a nasty habit of tearing each other down. So I'm sure most of what she said is rooted in jealousy. She probably still has some feelings for you."

"I know; it doesn't matter," he said after a long suffering sigh. "If this was real, I'd go yell at her, but it's not so..."

"And now it just looks like we're taking the high road," Claire said happily.

"Maybe next time you should just slap her." Claire laughed at his suggestion and shook her head. "Amber will back you up if she's around."

"Thanks for coming," he told her again when they reached her car.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" she asked, knowing he'd had more to drink than she did. She could see his motorcycle parked about ten yards away.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "You're okay?"

"Yes," she said with a nod. "Thanks for the drink."

"Anytime."

They shared a quick awkward hug and he kissed her cheek before she got in her car. As she closed the door and watched him walk to his bike she let out a shaky breath. Her body still tingled from the thrill of their kiss and she could feel her heart racing. As she watched him climb onto his bike and start the engine, she wondered if he was feeling anything similar.

* * *

 **A little Lisa drama because it would be boring if everyone thought they were amazing together. Please go review! Thanks again.**


	11. Chapter 11

**This was the chapter that wouldn't end. I tried to cut it down but eventually decided to just split it into two chapters. So, here's Part 1.**

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By the end of April, Claire and Owen were in the habit of having lunch every day together. Most days she would meet him at the raptor paddock with something she'd picked up or had delivered to eat in his office. Other times he brought food to her or they went out to a restaurant. So it wasn't a surprise when he showed up at her office a little before noon one day.

He knocked on her open office door and strolled in. "Where's Zara?" he asked, noticing her assistant's absence from her desk.

"I sent her downstairs to pick up a delivery," Claire explained. "You're earlier than usual," she noted as she checked the time.

"Yeah, well, I thought I should get here a little earlier because I have an inappropriate question to ask you."

"Inappropriate or _inappropriate?_ " she asked flirtatiously.

He stared at her with eyebrows raised for a second. "The first one. But I like where your head's at," he joked.

"Okay, what's your inappropriate question?" she asked, leaning back in her desk chair with her hands folded in her lap.

"It's inappropriate because you're my fake girlfriend and I'm about to exploit that for my own benefit," he admitted.

She regarded him, a bit surprised, and waited for him to continue.

"My motorcycle wouldn't start this morning," he began with an annoyed sigh. "And I know what the problem is. It's this stupid little fuse that will apparently keep the whole fucking thing from running if it blows. And of course we don't have this particular kind of fuse on this whole freaking island so I have to order it." She nodded, beginning to see the problem. "And as you know, it takes at least a month for anything ordered to get here. So, I need a ride, basically. I was wondering if I could borrow one of the park's vehicles until I can get my bike up and running again."

"Well, that depends on a few different factors," she said seriously. "Do you have a clean driving record?"

Owen exhaled harshly through his nose and set his mouth in a firm line. "Yes," he said tightly.

"Would you describe yourself as a careful driver?" she asked.

He hummed an affirmation and nodded once.

"Do you have anyone who can vouch for that?"

"Would you like to call my former C.O.?" Owen asked tightly. "I used to drive him around in a Humvee in Afghanistan."

"Yes, actually. That'd be wonderful," she said kindly.

"Come on, Claire," he groaned.

She smiled and grabbed her office phone, dialing a quick number.

"Paul, please," she asked the receptionist who answered the phone. "It's Claire Dearing."

" _Claire! How are ya?_ " Paul asked when he got on the phone.

He was the island's one and only car mechanic. They employed him full time since they had so many vehicles and it would be far too costly to have them sent out or someone else brought in special if anything ever needed to be repaired. Paul was an older gentleman in his early sixties and always talk to Claire like she was his long lost granddaughter.

"I'm doing well, thanks for asking. I was wondering if we had any spare vehicles you could loan out to me?"

" _Something wrong with Marcy?_ " he asked. He had named her car. She thought it was kind of cute.

"No, it's actually for Owen Grady. He's our raptor trainer," she explained. "His personal vehicle broke down and he needs a loaner."

" _Oh, sure. Well the ones I have here are a little beat up,_ " Paul said. " _They won't be as pretty as yours, but they'll run._ "

"They don't need to be pretty," she assured him. "Could we swing by in an hour to pick one up?"

" _Sure thing,_ " he said. " _Tell him he can bring his car by if he wants me to take a look._ "

"Thanks, Paul. We'll see you in a bit." She hung up the receiver.

"So do I need to be concerned about this Paul guy?" Owen asked teasingly. "Is he going to steal you away from me?"

"He has been very good to me over the years," she said wistfully.

"Miss Dearing," Zara called as she entered her office. "I have your packages."

Claire was surprised she'd made it back in one piece given how much she was carrying. She had two rather large boxes stacked in her hands and a full bouquet of white calla lilies resting on top of that. She could hardly see over the flowers.

"Who the hell is sending you flowers?" Owen asked, grabbing the bouquet from Zara as she placed the packages on Claire's desk.

"Must be my other boyfriend," Claire said absent-mindedly as she looked through her desk drawer for a pair of scissors to cut open the boxes. "Zara, stay here a minute. I want your opinion on these."

Owen leafed through the flower petals and found a card, opening it.

"'To the island's saving grace,'" he read. "'Happiest of wishes on your'...'birthday,'" he finished slowly.

"From Masrani?" Zara asked. Owen didn't answer, staring in awe at the card.

"Yes," Claire answered for him as she opened her packages. "He always gets me those for my birthday. They're my favorite."

Claire fished out the shoebox from the first package and opened the lid. She moved the tissue to the side and showed Zara the black strappy heels nestled inside. Zara gasped in delight.

"They're lovely," her assistant said. "A birthday present for yourself?"

"Yes," she said happily. She put the shoebox down and opened the other box.

"What the _fuck_ , Claire?" Owen shouted, making both her and Zara jump in surprise.

"What?" she asked.

"It's your fucking birthday?" he asked angrily.

"Oh," she said simply, returning to her package. "So?"

"You didn't know?" Zara asked him, shocked.

" _No!_ Do I look like I knew?" He shoved his hands through his hair and walked in a small circle. "Jesus Christ."

"Don't be mean," Claire scolded patiently. "I don't make a big deal out of my birthday."

"You should have told me," he said. "And you!" he said, pointing at Zara. "You should have reminded me even if you thought I knew."

"She's _my_ assistant. Not yours," Claire argued.

"It's your _fucking birthday,_ " he stressed.

"I know," she said, getting more and more irritated with him. "It's not a big deal."

"I'm your boyfriend! I'm supposed to know this kind of thing! I'm supposed to get you something!" he said. "Masrani gets you god dammed flowers and your boyfriend doesn't even know."

She stopped paying attention to his tantrum and pulled out the large garment box from the second package.

"And these are apparently your favorite flowers. That's great. _Freaking perfect._ I didn't know that either!"

"So you know nothing about me," she said casually.

"It's not funny, Claire," he grumbled.

"Will you calm down? It is my birthday, you know. And you're being a bit of a dick."

Owen kept his mouth shut but stood with closed fists resting on his hips and his jawline clenching.

Claire pulled out and lifted up the silken dress she had bought for herself. It elicited another gasp from Zara.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she exclaimed. "And hardly any creases from shipping," she noticed.

"I know," Claire said, holding the dress up to her body and walking around her desk so Zara could see the whole dress. "They do a great job of packaging it."

"What a stunning color," she gushed.

"Cerulean," Claire said. "I love it. It's even better in person." She looked over to Owen who was still sulking. "What do you think?" she asked him.

"It's nice," he said quietly. She could tell he was still upset.

"Are you free for lunch or is someone who knew it's your birthday taking you out?" he asked gruffly.

"Of course she's free," Zara said, feeling the soft, cool material of the dress. "I'm not allowed to schedule any lunch meetings for her," she looked up to Owen, smiling softly, "so that she can always have lunch with you."

Owen appeared to be chewing on the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicked to Claire's.

"See?" she said to him with a pointed smile. "I'm a good girlfriend."

His jaw twitched. "Are you ready?" he asked with a sigh.

"I'll be a little late coming back," she told Zara, remembering that they had to pick up a car for Owen.

She and Owen made their way down the hall to the elevator. She was surprised when he grabbed her hand to hold given his less than stellar attitude.

"I'm sorry," he said as they road in the surprisingly empty elevator.

"It's fine," she said softly.

"Happy birthday." He looked over at her and smiled weakly.

"Thanks. Now cheer up," she ordered.

...

"Are you free tonight?" he asked as they ate their lunch.

"Why?"

"I want to take you out for your birthday," he said like it was obvious.

"Owen," she sighed. "I don't really celebrate it. And you're taking me out right now anyway."

"I'm taking you out tonight," he said plainly, looking down at the plate of food in front of him.

She was going to argue but her phone started ringing. "I should get this," she said, seeing her sister's name on the screen.

"Hey, Karen," she greeted.

" _Hey! Happy birthday!_ " she yelled back.

"Thanks," she said with a laugh.

 _Who is it?_ Owen mouthed to her.

"My sister," she answered quietly.

Before she could react, Owen had reached across the table and snatched her phone right out of her hand.

"Hello, Karen," he said happily. "This is Owen." He paused, listening to her sister. "Never heard of me, huh? Well that seems a bit rude of Claire." Another pause. "I'm her boyfriend... I know. She's not very forthcoming with personal information, is she?... No... Because I'm a little upset with her at the moment and this is her punishment... She didn't tell me it was her birthday today... Four months... That's long enough to tell a guy your birthday's coming up... I do... No, she can't... Yeah, she knows... No, not yet... I don't know... Well, to be honest, I'd be a little afraid of the answer... No, it's fine. It's doesn't bug me that much... No, I'd rather her be comfortable with everything... Uh huh. You should see the way she's looking at me." He gave her a quick smile and a wink.

"So, the reason I hijacked your conversation is I need your help. Since she didn't tell me it's her birthday, I don't have a present for her... Yeah, and it's a problem I'm trying to fix. Do you have any suggestions?... Yeah, I'm going to take her out tonight... I've got a place in mind... No... Well you know her better than I do, apparently, so what do you think?... Really?... Yeah, I could do that... No, that won't work... Because we're on a relatively small island full of dinosaurs... Yeah... Yes... Really?... I would not have pictured that..." He eyed her shrewdly. " _No_... Because I value my life... She'd definitely kill me... Yeah, that's something. That's a good one. I don't think it'll work for tonight though... It's too short notice... Well, blame her for that.

"Sure," he continued talking to her sister. He started eating his food which Claire took to mean they'd be on the phone for a while. She was desperately curious to know what Karen was saying.

"Thirty-four... No," he said with a smile. "I haven't really had the time for anything like that... I'm in the Navy... Yes, ma'am... I am... Yeah," he laughed. "I'm serious... Yes... I swear... One hundred percent... Well, I don't have anything on me at the moment that can prove it... Of course... Okay. And if she doesn't give you back to me, it was nice talking to you and thanks for your help... Yeah, definitely. Okay, here she is." He handed the phone back to her.

"Hey," she said slowly.

" _A_ boyfriend?" Karen practically screamed.

"Yes," she answered, glaring at a satisfied Owen.

" _Is he really a Navy SEAL?_ "

"Yes," Claire answered with a laugh.

" _And you haven't sent me pictures?_ " she cried. " _God, Claire. What is the point of having a single sister if I can't live vicariously through you?_ "

"I'm sorry," she said with a large grin.

" _Whatever_ ," Karen scoffed. " _Let me talk to him again._ "

"Why?"

" _Because I'm getting dirt,_ " she insisted. " _I'll tell you everything later._ "

Begrudgingly, Claire handed Owen back her phone. He smirked, amused.

"Hello, again... I told you... Why would I lie about that?... Yeah, well, I guess... Right... No... I'm good about that kind of thing... True, and if that did happen, no one told me... With Claire?" He laughed, nervously, she thought. "I don't- well, we've never talked about it... No... Because it's only been four months... In this case, yes... Sure... Yeah, eventually... I don't know... Good grief, woman."

Claire smiled knowing Karen was really digging into him now.

"Yes, please... I work with the raptors... Yes, really... Are you going to question everything I tell you?... Yes... Four... About five years... Yeah, well, sort of. Technically, I work for the U.S. Navy and collaborate with InGen, the genetics company, but she oversees everything - so sort of, I guess?... Right... No I don't mind it. I like my women powerful," he said with a large grin. "Yeah," he laughed at something Karen said. "Yeah, tell me about it..."

Claire signaled their server for their check. They couldn't spend all day sitting in this restaurant with Owen gossiping with her sister.

"Okay, now it's my turn to ask you stuff about Claire... Yes... Hey, it's only fair... What else do you want to know?... I've told you that already." He rolled his eyes, smiling and shaking his head. "Uh, asked and answered, Your Honor... Yes... Stop trying to get around answering my questions... Yes, you are... I told you that I do... Yes... A lot... Enough... Enough to be annoying... It's allowed to be annoying... _She's_ not annoying. That's not what I mean... It's pathetic... Worst it's ever been for me... I know... No... Well, that I don't know. I said that already... No... No, I'm not doing that... Stop instigating!" he pleaded.

"Oh my goodness," he groaned. "Okay, you win. I won't ask you anything. Jesus Christ." He let his head fall in his hand and Claire couldn't help her gleeful chuckle at watching someone else deal with her sister's pestering. "No, forget it. It's not worth it... No, I'm done... Jesus, all I wanted to know was why I can't call her 'Claire-Bear.'"

Claire's smile faded immediately. She watched as his slowly did as well. She hadn't ever mentioned her father walking out to him, but it looked like that was what Karen was explaining to him now.

"Seven, huh?" he asked remorsefully. That's the age she was when he left. "What an ass... No, she hadn't... But clearly she keeps a lot of things from me. I just found out today that her favorite flower is those fancy lily thingies... Yeah, that... No... I have but I played it safe and got roses... Yeah, I am _pretty_ sweet. Make sure you tell her that, okay?...

"Alright, it looks like I better get going," Owen said into the phone as the server brought their bill. "I've got to go entertain my lady and then figure out what the heck I'm going to do for her tonight." His eyes grew wide at something she said; Claire could only imagine. A smile spread across his face. "That sounds more like a present for me... _Whoa_ , okay, there. You're her sister... I don't think I'm allowed to talk to you about our sex life."

Claire vehemently shook her head.

"I'm getting the negative on my end," Owen told her, chuckling. "Sorry... That's on her... Yeah, uh huh, I'm going to pass you back to her now... No, you're starting to make me sweat," he joked. "I can't talk to you about this... Here's your sister. It was nice talking to you!"

Owen all but threw her cell phone back at her as he tossed a few bills down on the table for payment and stood. Claire followed him out the restaurant, bringing the phone to her ear.

 _"...and then you can make sweet, hot, passionate love to her,"_ Karen was saying.

" _Karen!_ " Claire cried out in embarrassment.

" _Oh, hey, honey. He sounds cute!_ "

"It sounds like you were torturing him," she said. She grabbed Owen's arm when they reached the sidewalk and pulled him in the direction of the various gift shops on that particular strip.

" _Only slightly. You'd think for a SEAL he'd have thicker skin,_ " she commented. " _Well, I'm sure you need to get back to your day so I'll let you go._ "

"Thanks, Karen. And thanks for calling."

" _Of course. I love you. And don't forget to send me pictures of him!_ "

"Okay, will do," she promised with a smile. "I love you too."

Claire ended the call and lead Owen inside one of the shops.

"It's my nephew's birthday next month," she explained. "He loves dinosaurs so I thought maybe I could find something for him in one of these stores."

"How old is he?"

Claire thought for a moment. "Uh... Eleven, I think."

"You think?"

"It's hard to keep track," she defended. "Definitely between nine and twelve. Or maybe thirteen."

"Okay, so a gift for a boy aged seven to fourteen," Owen said as he looked around. Claire smirked at his teasing. "Your sister is insane, by the way."

"What was she asking you about?" she asked as she looked over a 3-D puzzle of an Apatosaurus.

"Oh, you know, the usual: age, height, weight, blood type, burial or cremation." He held up a toy jeep with the park's logo on the hood and driver door. "Are we sure he's above the age of three?" he asked, pointing to the "Ages 3+" label on the packaging.

"Pretty sure," she said. "What was she saying at the end that made you hand the phone back to me?" She held up an action figure of a T-Rex. "This?"

Owen shrugged. "It's hard to tell. It's been a while since I was a boy between the ages of five and sixteen." He looked over a shelf of remote control helicopters, the park's logo printed on the side, as he answered her initial question. "She suggested I get you lingerie for your birthday." He looked over to her, smiling as she blushed. "And then said I should take it off of you with my teeth."

Claire shook her head, desperately trying to force her blush to lessen. "She's always been a bit depraved," she said as an excuse.

She gasped in delight as she spotted a rack across the room. She rushed towards it, Owen following at a much slower speed.

"Come look!" she urged him. She picked up the various ties on display, looking at the embroidered designed on each.

"I don't know how many boys ages four to eighteen care about ties," Owen said skeptically.

"I meant for you," she said. "Look, this one's got little raptors on it!"

"Oh, yeah, look at that," he said, clearly unenthused.

"They have it in green," she said, pulling down the same grey tie but with green embroidered dinosaurs rather than the pink color she had initially grabbed.

She turned around to him and held it up to his chest where it would normally lay against him. "It's a little wider than I'd like," she said, eyeing it with her head tilted. "But it's such a cute design I don't know how you wouldn't get it."

"Easy," he said. He took the tie from her hands and hung it back on its rack. "Just like that."

She grabbed it again. "I'm buying it for you," she said definitively before quickly walking away.

"What? No," he said, following after her again. "Claire, you're not allowed to buy me anything. _Especially_ not on your birthday."

"It's my birthday; I can do whatever I want," she retorted.

"Claire, seriously."

"Relax, Owen," she deflected. "Help me find something for my nephew."

She heard his frustrated mix of a sigh and a groan as he stood behind her. She smirked and peeked over her shoulder at him.

"Don't," he said flatly, not happy with her at moment.

"Don't be mad at me," she said, a small smile forming on her lips. It was rare for her to see him so annoyed.

"You're pissing me off today," he said.

She turned around and smiled. She wasn't sure why she found it as amusing as she did. She leaned closer to him.

"It's my birthday," she whispered.

"I know," he said.

She bit her cheek to keep from grinning and wrapped her hands around his neck, still holding the tie. "You're taking me out tonight."

"Yep," he agreed tightly.

"Are you still going to be mad at me then?" she asked sweetly.

"I don't know," he said. "Depends on what happens between now and then."

"Well, I am getting you a car," she pointed out. "And a tie."

"The car I appreciate. The tie I could do without."

"Oh, come on. Let me spoil my fake boyfriend," she teased, moving her hand around to his face and pinching his cheek lightly.

He moved quickly out of her arms, away from her pinching fingers. "I can think of a lot of different ways I'd rather you spoil me."

It might have been a flirtation but his tone was still too petulant to be sexy.

"Well, this is all you're getting," she said, flipping the tie back and forth. "Now, what to get my nephew...?"

"Why don't you just get him tickets to the park?" Owen suggested. "He likes dinosaurs...show him some in person."

Claire chewed the idea over for a moment. "I could do that. I could bring them all down here. I'd have to pay for their travel, too, though. They couldn't afford all that," she said, mostly to herself. "That's a good idea, though. I haven't seen them in years. And he'd probably love it."

"What kid ages three to twenty-seven wouldn't?" Owen asked, a smile twitching across his face.

Claire smirked and held up the tie. "I'm going to go pay for this, and then we're going to go get you a car."

"I've never had a sugar mama before," he mused as he followed after her.

She smiled, knowing his mood was on the incline, now.

* * *

 **Part 2 to come and then for those of** **you who are getting impatient for something real to happen, the plot takes a jump forward in Chapter 13.**

 **Now please go review! Let me know what your favorite parts are or what you think I could improve upon. Thanks!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Alright, Part 2.**

* * *

"This one's probably going to be your best bet," Paul told Owen as he showed him an older Ford F-150. "She used to be used by the vets but she got smacked a few times with a steg's tail. See that?" He pointed to large scratches on the side of the bed and one puncture hole by the wheel well. "It popped one of the tires so they brought it back here and grabbed an another truck. Never came back for it."

"As long as it runs, I'm fine," Owen said.

"Oh, it'll run. It's got a nice engine in it. V8. None of this Eco-Boost V6 crap they're coming out with now," Paul said, shaking his head. Owen smiled. "It's heavy, though, so the get up can take a few seconds, and it eats gas like it's got a leak, but I'd still pick this one over any of the others, if it were me."

"You don't have a VW Bug we could give him?" Claire asked. "Or something girlier?"

Paul smiled and Owen sighed. "She's been having fun at my expense all day today," he told the mechanic.

"Well, it's her birthday; she's allowed."

Paul walked over to a work bench and Owen snapped his attention back to her.

" _Unbelievable_ ," he muttered.

"I thought you'd be bring by your car," Paul called before walking back to them with a set of keys. "Claire said you were having some trouble."

"It's a bike, actually," Owen corrected him politely. "I've found the problem already. A fuse blew."

"Do you know what caused it to blow?"

"Not yet. I can't get any power to it to check anything," he explained. "I could by pass the fuse, probably, but depending on what the problem is, that might make it worse."

"Yeah, best just to get a new one and hope you can find the issue before it blows again."

"I'll order a handful of them just in case," Owen said. He took the proffered keys from Paul. "Thanks for your help."

"Sure," Paul said easily. "Anything for Miss Dearing."

"Thanks, Paul," she said kindly. "I should get back to work, Owen."

"Yeah," he agreed. He gave her a quick kiss. "I'll text you about tonight."

"I just need you to sign a release form before you go, Mr. Grady," Paul said as Claire began walking out. "You better be takin' good care of her," she heard him warn Owen. She smiled and looked back just as she was stepping out of the garage, seeing Owen nodding emphatically.

...

He told her to dress up.

 **Like my new dress?** she texted him hopefully.

 **The blue one? Yeah, that'll work.**

When he arrived at her apartment that night he was wearing the dinosaur tie she'd bought him. It made her smile and she teased him about it as he rushed her to elevator.

"We're going to be late," he urged her.

"Are we going to be late because you spent an hour deciding if you should wear that tie that you secretly love but don't want me to know how much you love it?"

" _This_ ," he said, flapping the tie in front of her face, "is for your benefit. Happy frickin' birthday."

She laughed as the elevator opened to the ground floor of the building and he pulled her through the lobby to the outside. His truck-on-loan was sitting by the curb.

"Did you order the fuses you need for your bike?" she asked as she climbed into the cab.

"Yeah," he said, distracted. He quickly started the engine and pulled out onto the service road. "It's going to be while for them to get in, but..." He trailed off.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" she asked.

"You'll see."

"Do you like the truck?"

"Yeah, it's nice," he said.

"I could arrange for you to keep it," she suggested. "That way you wouldn't have to depend on your bike if it's raining or something."

The island had some nasty storms sometimes. She couldn't imagine riding a motorcycle through torrential downpours was very much fun.

"Nah, that's alright. I love riding that bike." He turned to her and smiled. "Thanks, though."

They chatted about how the rest of his day had gone. Delta had been particularly difficult, he told her. She didn't want to listen to him and kept snapping at Echo every time the other raptor got too excited.

"Why do you think that's happening?" she asked curiously.

"Could be just because she's a bit of a bitch," he said. "She's always been temperamental. Or maybe she's not feeling well. If she's got a little bug, or something, she might not be in the mood to deal with her sisters." He pulled into a parking space behind a row of buildings - the uglier backside of the island's Boardwalk. "If she keeps it up I'll have to get a vet out to look her over."

"Hopefully it's nothing," Claire said.

They got out of the car and began walking towards the gate entrance to the boardwalk. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along, making her walk slightly faster than normal.

"You know the nice thing about having a truck over a bike?" he asked with a smile.

"What's that?"

"I get to pick my girl up and drive her around," he said with a wink.

"You could do that with a bike," she said slowly, smirking.

"Yeah, but you won't ride on my bike," he said like it was obvious.

"You've never asked me," she pointed out. "I would do it."

He looked to her, surprised. "You would?" She nodded. "Really? You'd let me take you out on my bike?" he asked doubtfully.

She shrugged. "Sure. As long as you drive safe," she said. "It'd be fun."

"Oh my God," he said in awe. "I really don't know you, do I?"

"I'm full of surprises," she said coyly.

"Apparently," he muttered.

He lead her into a small club. There were small, two-person tables littered through the perimeter of a dance floor.

"Have you ever been here before?" he asked her.

"No; you?"

"No. Barry suggested it. So if you hate it, blame him."

She nodded and chuckled a little.

"Grady - two," he said to the hostess.

He'd made a reservation? How cute, she thought.

They were led to a table in the corner and each handed a single page menu. A server came by and, after asking if they'd been there before, gave a short spiel about the club. He explained that the live band plays cover songs from a variety of genres and they were free to get up and dance at any point during their meal.

"Leave your napkin on you chair if you don't want us to clear your plates," he explained. "Put it on the table if you do. Got that? Napkin on chair - plates stay. Napkin on table - plates gone. It's written here, if you forget." He pointed to a small place card on the table next to the candle.

"That's been a problem, I take it?" Owen asked.

"Happens all the time," the server agreed. "But it's been better since we've come up with this little system. Nothing ruins a romantic night out like a botched dinner."

He took their drink orders - Owen ordered wine which made Claire nearly fall out of her chair - and left them to look over the menu.

"This is nice," she commented, looking around the room. It was sparsely decorated but that was what she liked about it. Sometimes venues went a little overboard with their decor themes. The club had a nice, rustic elegance to it.

"Yeah, it is. Not bad," Owen said, also looking around. "Figured it was another chance for me to one-up McPherson, too. You said he never took you dancing, right?"

"We danced at parties but never came to a place like this," she said, shaking her head. "What about you and Lisa?"

He shook his head. "She didn't like this kind of dancing," he said, nodding towards the couples on the dance floor dancing slowly.

Claire smiled and looked back across the table at him. She started laughing a little.

"What?" he asked, now smiling at her.

"'A romantic night out,'" she chuckled.

"What?"

"That's what the server called this. 'A romantic night out.'"

"Oh, yeah," he said. He looked back down at the menu and sighed. "Frickin' Barry."

"Don't blame Barry," she said, chuckling.

They spent the rest of their meal chatting away amicably.

"So you're happy, here?" she asked him. "I mean, I know you love your raptors, but do you actually enjoy the work?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I do. It's cool to be involved in something that, really, no one else does. But my future is kind of up in the air. Who knows how long I'll be doing this for."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"Well, I'm employed by the Navy, technically. I've got another year in the service. And then I'll have to decide if I want to reenlist or not. If I do, there's a chance they'll pull me out of here - depending on what's happening in the world. Really, they could pull me out at any time, but I imagine the contract with InGen is substantial enough that they want me to stay here.

"Then there's the girls," he continued. "They'll live for another eight years if they stay healthy but anything could happen. They could get sick. They could get too dangerous and have to be put down. Or InGen could decide they aren't getting the progress they want and shut us down prematurely." He shrugged. "And then what do I do? If it happens within the year, or after I reenlist, the Navy will pull me back into duty. They aren't going to let me just hang back on some island in Costa Rica where there's no benefit to them."

Claire was surprised. She hadn't realized his situation was so fragile and tentative. "What happens if you don't reenlist?"

He shrugged again. "You know Hoskins? He's the InGen rep that comes here all the time," he asked. "He's an ass hole, but I could probably work it out with him to stay with their program. Or I leave - head back to the States and get a job somewhere."

They ate in silence as Claire thought over what he'd told her.

"Would you want to stay here?" she asked him. "If it wasn't working with the raptors, I mean?"

"Depends on what I would be doing, I guess." He eyed her shrewdly. "You got a job for me or something?"

She smirked. "I'm sure I could put you somewhere," she replied. "Garbage disposal or paddock maintenance."

"I'll pass, thanks," he said, smiling.

She looked back down at her meal. "Really, I'm sure we could find you something. If you were interested, that is," she added. "You'd be a valuable asset, given your experiences with the raptors."

"Thanks," he said. "Enough about work though."

"Okay." She smiled. "What, then?"

"I want to talk about you getting on the back of my motorcycle." He grinned happily.

"The back?" she repeated. "Oh, no. I meant _I'd_ drive."

"Oh, really?" he asked, laughing. "I don't believe you."

"You just want me with my arms wrapped around you," she teased.

"Well, yeah," he said. "We should figure out a way to get McPherson to see it. He'd probably keel over."

"You love to mess with him, don't you?"

"Oh, does it show?" he asked innocently.

As they finished their meals, Owen stood and walked around the table, holding his hand out to her.

"Come on, Dearing," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the dancers. "Let see what you've got."

"What _I've_ got?" she asked incredulously. He held her hand and lead her to the center of the room. "I'm worried you're going to be stepping on my toes."

He pulled her to him and wrapped a hand around her waist his other still laced with hers. "I think you'll be okay," he said.

He lead her in a small circle in time with the crooning music of the band.

"Not bad, Grady," she conceded after a few minutes. "Where'd you learn this? SEAL training?"

He smiled but shook his head. "No, it's significantly more embarrassing."

"Did your mom make you take dance lessons as a kid?"

"Nope."

"Spill it, Grady," she ordered playfully.

He sighed and chuckled. "So one of my buddies in the Navy - this was before I was a SEAL - he asked his girlfriend to marry him right before we got shipped out. We were going to be stationed on an aircraft carrier for nine months and they planned to have the wedding right when we got back. I mean... _right_ when we got back. He was only going to have a couple days before the wedding and he wanted to surprise her for their first dance. He bought this book - like a _Dancing for Dummies,_ kind of thing - and taught himself how to dance but he wanted to practice."

Claire started laughing. "You were his dance partner?"

He laughed too and nodded. "Yeah, that's right. I stepped up. I wanted to help my friend out."

"Oh, that's great," she said. "Are there pictures of this?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he admitted. "The other guys had a fun time raggin' on us for it."

"That must have been discouraging for him," she said.

"Nah. Eventually all the ones that were married started giving pointers, remembering the lessons they had taken," he said with a smile.

They danced for a while. Owen hummed song of the songs he knew, sometimes getting very enthusiastic which made her laugh. He'd drum his fingers on her back in time with the beat.

He held her close and she noticed she was completely comfortable in his embrace. How strange, she thought. It wasn't that long ago that the idea of being affectionate in front of other people made her cringe in embarrassment. Good God, now she even initiated contact with him.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her softly.

"Hm?" she asked, pulled out of her thoughts.

"You look like you're doing some difficult math," he teased.

"Oh, I was just thinking," she said simply.

"About...?" he pressed.

She smiled softly. "About how guilty I feel."

"Guilty?"

"I feel like I've been hoarding you, or something. You could be with an actual girlfriend right now if you weren't here with me," she said.

He regarded her carefully. She felt his hand press harder against her back and he glanced around the room.

"I'd still be right here with you," he said knowingly.

"How's that?"

"It's your birthday and you're my friend," he said. "That's assuming you would have _told_ me it was your birthday."

She rolled her eyes. "Still on that, are you?" He didn't say anything but continued avoiding her eyes. "If you were dating someone else, I doubt you'd be dancing with me right now."

He finally looked back to her with a soft smile. "Sure I would. I probably wouldn't be wearing this ridiculous tie, but I'd be here."

"You love this tie," she said, bringing her hand down from his shoulder to rest on the tie. Her fingers ran across the small raptor silhouette. "You'll never convince me otherwise."

"Okay," he said laughing.

...

"You don't have to walk me up," she said as he parked the truck outside her building.

"Yeah, yeah," he deflected easily and got out of the car.

Inside the elevator, they stood side by side, looking at each other in the reflection of the sliding doors.

"Best. Tie. Ever," she whispered with a smile.

"You can have it if you like it so much," he said.

"I bought it for you," she said. "How rude to give a gift back."

The elevator doors opened to her floor and they saw someone crouching down outside her apartment door. Who was-?

Owen turned her quickly to him and kissed her. He maneuvered her out of the elevator, still kissing her. She was locked in place. He had her trapped in his arms. After a moment they heard a small cough and low, soft voice, "Excuse me."

Owen pulled away from her and she saw Daniel, trying to get around them in the hall. She should have known based off Owen's reaction.

"Daniel?" Claire asked. "What are you doing here?" His apartment was three floors below hers.

"I brought a card," he said, pointing back towards her door. "I wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

"Oh, thanks," she said simply.

"Did you two have a good night?" he asked, eyeing Owen.

"We did. He took me dancing," she said happily. She looked up at Owen. "It was a lot of fun."

"Good," Daniel said uncomfortably. "Well, have a good night."

"Night," Owen said gruffly.

He and Claire walked to her door. She listened for the ping of the elevator opening its doors for Daniel but it never came. Owen apparently noticed that little fact too, because after she unlocked her door and picked up the card Daniel had left against it, he kissed her shoulder, standing behind her.

His hands gripped her hips. She could feel his body along the length of hers. She tried to hide her smirk. He really liked to push Daniel's buttons. One of his hands ran up to her stomach and his lips found a wonderful spot on her neck, just below her ear. She should probably open her door and go inside. Owen would follow her in, she knew, just to piss off her ex who was apparently still standing in the hall.

"Turn around," he said in her ear.

She did so, slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she confirmed Daniel was still there. She thought at this point it was a little creepy for him to be standing there. But then she caught him repeatedly pressing the call button for the lift. She smirked as she tilted her face up to Owen's.

He took a step forward, pressing her body between his and her door. His hands traveled from her waist, to her hips. She felt one hand leave her side and then the barrier behind her disappeared. He'd opened the door and continued kissing her as they disappeared through the threshold. She heard the door close. His lips slowed against hers and after a moment he pulled away. He smiled at her then turned and looked out the peep hole at an angle.

She doubted he'd be able to see the elevator but decided to let him figure that out for himself and walked into her living room. This was the first time he'd been in her apartment. She was once more incredibly grateful for her perfect organization skills as she looked around the clean space.

"Fucker," she heard his muffled voice say against the door. "What a prick." He turned around and followed her into the living room.

She tossed the card Daniel had left for her onto her coffee table and bent over to unclasp her heels, sliding them off.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked him as she stood and made her way to the kitchen. "I imagine you're going to hang out here for a little while at least - make sure he's not waiting for you to leave?"

"Yeah," he agreed, walking to the kitchen bar. "Long enough that if he is still waiting for me when I leave, it'll at least seem like we had sex."

"So, what - three, four minutes?" she joked as she grabbed a bottle of wine from her fridge.

"Ha, ha," he said flatly.

She smiled. "Wine?"

"Sure."

She poured them each a glass then her phone buzzed with a text.

"It's not McPherson, is it?" Owen asked curiously.

"No," Claire laughed. "It's my sister. She wants me to send her pictures of you."

"Send her the one from Masrani's party," he suggested, grinning.

Karen called her almost immediately after Claire sent the picture. "Oh, God," she said, eyeing her phone warily as it rang.

"Answer it," Owen urged. "Put it on speaker."

"Why?" she asked incredulously.

"So I can hear it," he said.

"Hey," Claire said as she picked up the call, giving Owen a warning look to stay quiet.

" _Claire,_ " Karen said in a serious voice. " _How have you been dating his guy for four months and not told me?_ "

"I don't know. I guess I was just waiting to see where things were going?" she answered, unsure. She gave Owen a questioning look, wondering what he thought of that excuse.

" _Would you have told me about him if he hadn't stolen your phone from you earlier?_ "

"Yeah," Claire lied. "Eventually." She'd never had any intention of tell her sister except maybe as a 'Hey, want to hear something crazy? I'm fake dating this guy,' sort of thing.

" _Is he with you now?_ "

Owen shook his head. "No," Claire answered.

" _You don't stay with him?_ " Karen asked, bewildered.

"We do," she lied again. "He's in the shower." Owen gave a thumbs up.

" _I'm surprised you're not in there with him,_ " she said in a scandalous tone.

"Karen," Claire sighed. Owen had a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

" _What? He's hot_ ," she defended. " _So what's the deal with you two? You don't sound like you're really into it._ "

Owen took a sip of his wine as Claire tried to come up with something to say. "It's complicated."

" _How?_ "

"It's hard to explain," she said delicately. Owen was examining a chip in the granite countertop.

" _It doesn't sound complicated to him._ "

"What makes you say that?"

" _I asked him if he loves you,_ " she said softly. " _He said yes. Actually, he said he its pathetic how much he loves you._ " Owen smirked so Claire smiled.

"Really?"

" _He also said that you haven't said that you love him,_ " Karen said in that disapproving way that she's fine-tuned over the years. " _What's that about?_ "

"I guess I'm just being careful. After Daniel-"

" _Daniel?_ " she scoffed. " _That ass hole?_ " Owen made a fist, punched the air, then brought his elbow down to his knee - a gesture of victory.

"Was I the only one that liked him?" Claire asked. "Everyone talks about what an ass he was - how come no one warned me?"

" _I_ _did!_ " Karen exclaimed. " _You wouldn't listen! You're kind of an idiot when it comes to men, hon._ "

"Thanks," she said dryly. "Well, that's why I'm trying to be better now. This one seems nice but I'm obviously not a very good judge of that kind of thing."

" _This one seems more than nice,_ " she said. " _He's crazy about you and he's_ gorgeous _. Get knocked up now and lock him in place._ "

" _Karen!_ " Claire yelled, laughing. Owen had to walk away. Claire could hear his muffled laughter.

" _I'm not kidding,"_ Karen continued _. "Good men don't come along everyday; at least not ones that look like_ that _!_ "

"Oh my God," Claire said, still laughing.

" _Hang up the phone and go get pregnant. He's already naked in the shower. You're half way there!_ "

"I am going to hang up on you but it won't be to get pregnant."

" _Who are you talking to?"_ Claire heard the curious voice of her brother-in-law through the phone. " _Claire's got a hot new boyfriend,_ " Karen answered. " _I'm telling her to go jump him in the shower._ " " _Seems strange that_ you _would be giving anyone sex advise,_ " he said.

Claire and Owen stopped their laughing at the awkward moment they were listening in on.

" _I really wish I could continue this, Claire. But I have to go kill my husband and then hide his body,_ " she said snidely.

"Good luck," Claire said seriously. She knew they were having a lot marital problems lately.

They hung up and Claire sighed then laughed nervously. "Sorry," she said before sipping her wine. "She clearly likes you."

Owen smiled. "She's funny." He took another gulp from his glass and then set it on the bar. "I should get going."

Claire looked at the time. "Shame; that didn't last as long as I was thinking it would," she teased. "A little performance anxiety, Grady?"

He sighed and smiled. "I would show you otherwise, which would make your sister very happy, apparently, but I don't think you're really up for it."

"I'm not up for it? Or _you're_ not up for it?" she asked with a quick but obvious glance at the front of his pants.

He smiled and started walking slowly to her door. "You know, you used to be all professionalism and innocence. Have I ruined that so soon?"

"Maybe you just bring it out of me," she suggested, following him. "What happens if Daniel is waiting to ambush you? What's your excuse for only lasting ten minutes?"

"I'll act like I'm running to the truck for condoms," he said, turning to open the door.

"Daniel knows I'm on the pill," she said. "We wouldn't need condoms." She bit her lip, waiting for his reaction to that little piece of news.

The door, which he had opened an inch or so, was pushed shut as he leaned his head against it and groaned. "You're evil," he said.

"Like I said, you bring it out of me," she joked.

He lifted his head back up but was still facing the door. "You might have to push me out," he said.

She laughed and reached around him to turn the knob and open the door. "Go home, Grady. I need to get out of this dress and into a hot shower."

He groaned again, clutching both hands over his chest. She pushed him in the back and he stumbled comically into the hallway. "I'll be taking a cold one," he joked as he turned back to face her. "Good night, birthday girl."

He leaned forward enough to give her a light peck on the lips. It surprised her, obviously. She wondered if he realized what he'd just done or if kissing her goodbye was just a habit for him now. He winked and smiled before walking down the hall toward the elevator. She smiled and shook her head at his antics before closing her door.

* * *

 **So that bit at the end with Claire teasing Owen with some sex-related humor just sort of...happened. SorryNotSorry.**

 **Brace yourself. Chapter 13 is coming.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13. This skips ahead two months from the previous chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

Owen had surpassed all her expectations for their fake relationship. He was sweet, caring, and sensitive towards her feelings on things like PDA (though, to be fair, those reservations she had at the beginning of this whole mess were essentially nonexistent now). He respected her need for space after a long, hard day of work. He made her laugh. He encouraged her try new things (like the time he took her hiking because her sister had apparently let it slip to him that she had bought hiking boots when she first moved to the island five years ago and had _still_ never worn them). He challenged her. He was quick-witted and intelligent - more intelligent than she'd initially given him credit for. He was level-headed about his job. And he seemed to live his life with such an ease that she often found herself envious of him.

He attended whatever parties, functions, dinners, or meetings that she requested of him without much or any complaining. He was polite and professional around her colleagues but was still able to be affectionate with her in front of them. He made her feel desired and wanted and _worth_ it - whatever _it_ was.

It was really starting to piss her off.

For the last two months he'd been a near perfect gentleman. He even opened doors for her. It was beyond annoying.

How the hell did this happen? she often wondered. He went from this obnoxious, overly flirty, oaf to a man she not only considered to be her best friend, but a confidant, an ally. He was her partner in crime - the crime being lying to everyone they know. Hell, her sister didn't even know their relationship was a sham!

And, _God_ , could he kiss. When the situation called for it (and sometimes when it didn't but she'd stopped complaining) he could kiss her breathless. He told her a while back that he was skilled in bed (because despite being a gentleman, he still liked to see her blush and tease her) and she believed it. She'd had dreams - _dreams!_ \- of him in her bed. The following couple of days would be incredibly distracting especially if he was being affectionate.

Daniel had told her he was happy for her. Seriously _. Daniel_. He told her he thought she seemed happier and more at ease. She didn't mention it to Owen. His own personal vendetta against her ex brought him so much joy she didn't have the heart to tell him Daniel had actually been _nice_.

She'd asked him for a couple of days to herself, complaining that she'd been stressed with work but really she wanted some space from him to regain her bearings. He had been fine with it and told her to let him know if she needed anything. Of course he had. Because he was _freaking perfect._

That guilt she had mentioned to him on her birthday was really starting to get to her. She knew she wasn't anywhere near his level of commitment to their fake relationship. She thought he'd get upset with her and tell her it was unfair that he put in so much effort while she did almost nothing in comparison. But he hadn't. She thought he would at least tone down his efforts. But he hadn't. And why the fuck not? she wondered irritably. She tried to just be appreciative of all he was doing. She tried to find the humor in it - the joy of the game, kind of thing. But as the more time passed and the more things stayed the same - seriously, he never wavered, like a robot or something - the more frustrated she became.

She came to the conclusion that she had to end things. She had to. There was no other way around it. He was too good at this and she was too bad. If this is how he really acted in a relationship, she was unfairly keeping him from making another woman happy. A woman he could have a future with. It was cruel, what she had been doing. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair to either of them. It had gone on long enough. It was time it ended. If it didn't happen now, she was worried they could go on like this for years. And how awful would that be, to have wasted all that time?

It had to end.

As the decision became final in her mind, she felt a calm wash over her. The stress dissipated. The guilt began to ease. She would almost describe it as feeling numb. It was such a relief to not feel anymore.

...

She'd asked him to meet her for dinner the following night. She wasn't particularly looking forward to it, despite how much she thought it was the right thing to do. She wasn't one hundred percent sure how he'd take it. It was fake, though, right? So he shouldn't be too upset by it ending. She was worried about what it would change between them. She still wanted to be his friend, she just couldn't handle the pressure she felt.

"I think we need to work on our fake breakup," she told him when he arrived at the bar.

He nodded, not smiling but not surprised or upset as far as she could tell. "Okay, how do you want to do it?" That was a good sign, she thought.

"We should start fighting," she said. "We've bickered in front of people before but I think we need to step it up."

He smirked. "Sure. What do we fight about?"

"I don't know. Whatever we can come up with I guess."

He nodded again and they fell into a silence as they looked over their menus.

"Are you okay?" she asked eventually.

"Yeah," he answered with a shrug. "Why wouldn't I be?"

It was her turn to shrug and avoid his eyes. "Are you okay with ending this?"

"It was never supposed to be forever," he said with a patronizing gaze. "Six months was a good amount of time. We had a good run." One side of his mouth lifted in a short smile.

"There were good times," she continued, grasping at anything to lighten the awkward mood that had settled over them.

"Yes, there were," he agreed flirtatiously. She smiled, relieved.

The server came with their drinks and took their order.

"So what happened? Mark finally tell you he's into you?" he asked nonchalantly.

"What? No," Claire sputtered quickly. "Mark?"

By May, Mark Givens had been making weekly appointments with her to go over some financial planning as they headed into their busiest season. On more than one occasion she suspected his meetings with her had an ulterior motive as many of the questions and comments he had could easily be dealt with over email. Eventually he asked if she would like to meet over lunch one day, and after doing that once, it became a weekly occurrence, which meant that on those days she didn't meet Owen.

She could tell Owen suspected something was happening with her and the CFO. He called and texted her more often when he knew she was with Mark. Once, he'd even pretended to forget she wasn't having lunch with him that day.

"We could reschedule," Mark had suggested politely after both men arrived at her office expecting to take her out.

"No," Owen denied. "This is my fault. I remember now you mentioning your meeting today," he said to Claire. "You two go ahead. I'll see you tonight, beautiful."

He leant down and kissed her sweetly on the cheek.

When she questioned him about it later, he insisted he'd truly forgotten. She chalked it up to a mild form of jealousy. To Mark, she was supposed to be taken, and Owen, having a sort of macho, territorial fit, saw it as disrespectful. His response made sense to her - she would have probably done the same if the roles were reversed.

"But that's why you've decided to end this now, right? You want to see if you and him will work out?" Owen asked her.

Claire blushed. No, she hadn't considered dating Mark. She certainly found him attractive and nice, but she'd been so concerned with her fake relationship to even think about a real one in the future. But Owen thought her blush confirmed his suspicions.

"Hey, it's fine," he said quietly. "Mark's a nice guy. If you're going to dump me for anyone, I'd rather it be him than a douche bag like McPherson."

Claire smiled shyly, not really wanting to correct him. She didn't want to hash out how much she sucked as a fake girlfriend. "Fake dump you," she reminded him.

He smiled. "Right. Fake dump me. We're going to have to sell it, though. Just like we had to sell that we were actually together. Let's plan on some screaming matches in front of some people and then spread the word that we broke up."

She nodded, happy that he was still taking it well. "Okay."

"This might even be fun," he said with a sideways glance at her. "When else am I going to be allowed to piss you off?"

"Enjoy it while it lasts," she said wistfully.

...

"Jesus Christ, Claire! We've been together for more than six months!" Owen yelled at her as they stood next to her car by the raptor paddock. "I was hoping that by now you'd manage to make just a little more time for me."

Claire rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning her body away from him. "Oh, grow up Owen! I have a job, I have responsibilities. I'm sure that's a little hard for you to understand as someone who spends his days playing with animals."

" _Playing with animals?_ " he repeated incredulously. "Playing with- I'm risking my _life_ working with those creatures! It's not like they're puppy dogs!"

Claire glanced over by the stairs to the bridge and the holding gates, happily noticing that people were mingling around, listening in.

"Whatever, Owen," she said dismissively. "The point is, I run an _entire_ them park! It takes up most of my time. This isn't new! It's always been like this! What did you expect? You tell me you love me and I'd just give up my life for you?"

Owen guffawed and took a step back from her. "Wow! Wow, Claire." He turned around and walked away from her, throwing his hands up in the air. "I can't talk to you right now."

She let out a frustrated groan and hastily got in her car, slamming the door, roaring the engine as it started and drifting on the dirt road as she made her quick escape.

 **Well done, Miss Dearing. You are a worthy opponent.**

His text came twenty minutes later just as she was pulling up to the control room.

 **Thank you, Mr. Grady. I look forward to our next battle.**

 **Me too, just have to wait for these wounds to heal before I'm up for another one.**

She cringed a little as she got out of her car.

 **I'm sorry. I feel kind of terrible for saying all that to you.**

 **Don't be sorry. It's all fake, right? And anyway, I've had far worse screamed at me by women.**

She relaxed as she read his assurances.

 **Poor Owen Grady.**

 **Tell me about it. But still, you were kinda mean. I think you should come over to my bungalow later to kiss and make up.**

 **Now how would that fit in to the our brilliant breakup scheme?**

 **It wouldn't. That's why I'm not inviting anyone else.**

She smiled, shaking her head before turning her attention to the screens of the control room.

...

"We should fight again," Owen said as they walked toward her office. She saw that he was eyeing Zara as they approached.

"Okay," she agreed. "I've got one. Go with me on this."

As they got closer, Claire raised her voice. "I don't understand why you still have to talk to her. You're not together anymore."

"Oh, _God_ , Claire," Owen groaned. "I _cannot_ keep having this fight!"

"You won't ever talk to me about it."

"Because there's nothing to say! There's nothing going on. We're on friendly terms - that's it," he insisted. "You're being unreasonable."

" _Me?_ Anytime I ask you about her you start dodging questions. So yeah, I'm curious, and maybe a little pushy, but if you would just tell me the truth about what's going on we could drop this!"

"You're being such a bitch about this. Stop being like this! You acting like this - this is why all those other guys left you."

They were in front of Zara's desk by this point, so her assistant was able to witness with no obstruction as Claire spun around and smacked Owen right across the face. It stunned him long enough for her to run into her office and slam the door shut just as he composed himself and tried to follow her.

"Claire!" he yelled as he pounded on the door. She stood against the wall as he tried turning the locked handle. "Open the door, Claire."

Her adrenaline was spiked and her breathing was heavy. She hadn't meant to slap him that hard.

"Do you have a key to this?" she heard him ask Zara.

"I think you should leave," her assistant said firmly. That was nice, she thought.

"I'm not going anywhere." There was a loud smack against the door - it made her jump. "Claire! Open the damn door or, so help me, I will break it down!"

He sounded very mad. Was he mad that she slapped him or was this still part of the game?

"Do you have a key - yes or no?" he barked at Zara.

"I'll call security if you don't leave now!" Zara shouted back. Claire had never been happier to have her as an assistant. Her loyalty was worth every penny.

There wasn't a sound for a moment and she wondered if Owen had indeed left.

"Claire," he called, much softer now. "I'm sorry. Open the door, baby. I shouldn't have said those things."

 _Baby?_ Well now she was really going to make him sweat it out.

"Can you call her office? Just let me talk to her," he pleaded with Zara.

"You should just leave. She'll call you when she's ready to talk."

"I can't leave like this." He sounded hopeless.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she worked herself up into crying.

"Please, Zara. I gotta get in there. I have to make this right."

Her office phone buzzed at her desk and she heard the receiver being picked up so he wouldn't be talking to her on speaker.

"Claire, talk to me," he asked softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say all that. I was just frustrated. You know..." He sighed and talked quieter. "You know how much I care about you. Please, just open the door. Let me make this right."

She only needed a second more before the tears spilled over and down each cheeks. She turned and slowly opened the door a few inches. The intercom in her office cut off as she heard Owen quickly hang up the line. She pulled her door open wide enough for Zara to see her red eyes and tears.

Owen's eyes were extremely wide as he rushed to her, completely caught off guard by her wet cheeks.

He wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry." He pulled away from her enough to look her in the eye as his thumbs wiped her face dry. "I'm an idiot. I'm sorry."

He pulled her face to his and kissed her with enough force that she had to grab onto his forearms to steady herself. He walked her backwards, lips still latched onto hers, further into her office and must have closed the door with his foot because his hands never left her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Are you?" she asked worriedly. She brought her hand up to his cheek where she'd slapped him. It was still pink.

"What?" he hissed. "Oh, yeah." He touched his own cheek, his hand landing over hers which she quickly withdrew. "That was a nice one, by the way. I completely trust that you can smack the crap out of any creep that comes up to you." He grabbed her shoulders and fixed her with a determined stare. "I made you cry," he said definitively.

"I thought it was a good idea - a nice touch," she said shyly. He seemed really upset by it, though. Was it too much?

"You can make yourself cry?"

"Yeah," she answered with a shrug. She stepped away from him, finally getting some space between them and wiped her fingers under her eyes.

"That's..." he let out a shaky laugh, "terrifying. Jesus, Claire, I thought I'd gone too far."

"Well, the slap was sort of spur of the moment, retaliation for what you said," she admitted. "It wasn't exactly nice."

"It wasn't supposed to be," he said with a smirk. "You know I don't think that, right?"

She shrugged again and walked to her desk. "It's fine. Like you, I've heard worse."

"That's not right," he said finally. She looked up and saw his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. "You don't deserve that kind of crap."

She averted her eyes to the papers on her desk. "You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do." He walked slowly towards her, moving around her desk to stand next to her. "You're an amazing woman, Claire. Any man lucky enough to be with you should be thanking his lucky stars every night."

She wanted to smile up at him but she couldn't. His eyes were glued to hers and they were so intent she suddenly felt helpless as she stared back.

He raised a steady hand to her cheek, moving it slowly back into her hair then down her neck. "I'm going to miss you," he whispered.

She swallowed the lump in her throat that must have been there from her crying. "We can still be friends," she said.

"Not like this. It'll never be like this again. Not when you're with someone else." His thumb reached up and rubbed across her bottom lip. "I'm going to miss kissing you."

She cleared her throat as softly as she could manage. "What are you doing?"

He continued to stare down at her for a beat longer before a slow smile spread across his face. "Saying goodbye," he said. "I don't think we'll have too many more moments alone."

"I don't want to stop being your friend," she said.

She realized her voice almost cracked with emotion. What was happening to her? To them? This was a fake breakup, why was he acting like they'd never see each other again?

"We'll be friends," he assured her, still smiling. She didn't think the smile totally reached his eyes. "But things will be different. I'll have to tone down the flirting so that I'm not so irresistible."

She finally cracked a small smile. "I appreciate your sacrifice."

"It will be a sacrifice," he said seriously. "I'll have to constantly remind myself not to grab your hand or put my arm around you."

"Me too," she whispered.

He shook his head. "No, it'll be easier for you. Givens will be there for you to do all of that with."

"You don't know that," she said, not liking the insecurity in her tone.

"Yeah, I do. I see the way he looks at you. And if he doesn't jump at the chance to be with you then he's the dumbest man I've ever met."

She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a long hug. His arms and hands were so warm on her back and sides. Would she really never feel this again? Owen Grady embracing her. It felt so natural and welcome now.

"Maybe the second dumbest man," he muttered by her ear.

"Who would be the first?" she asked curiously, still not releasing him.

"I should get back to work," he said as he slid his hands to her sides and pushed lightly at her to step away. "You probably have a meeting or something to get to, right?"

"Uh," she said, rubbing at her forehead under her bangs. "Yeah, something like that, probably. I can - I'll walk you to the elevator."

"No, that's okay. We should still seem upset with each other."

"But we made up?"

"But I said some nasty things...you slapped me. Just trust me on this."

She walked him to the door and he walked backwards out into the hall, watching her.

"I love you," he said for Zara's benefit. He hadn't ever said it blatantly like that to her before. It surprised her.

"I..." Was she supposed to say it back?

"I'll see you tonight," he said before she could say anything more.

She watched him walk down the hall and when he was out of earshot she turned back to Zara.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she said.

"It's okay, Miss Dearing. Men can suck sometimes," she said, offering a sad smile. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

"I'm fine," Claire answered.

She glanced back down the hall at Owen's retreating back before going back into her office. She shut her door again and leaned her back against it, feeling a fresh set of tears coming on and she wasn't even trying.

...

" _Yeah, but did you cry?_ "

"Why is it so important to you if I cried?"

" _It was our first official day of not fake being together and you told your assistant,_ " Owen said. " _It's important to my reputation as an amazing boyfriend and immensely talented lover that you cried_."

She laughed as she pulled the covers back and climbed into her bed, her cell still glued to her ear. "You're ridiculous."

" _Ridiculously charming_ ," he corrected. " _Now answer the question._ "

She rolled her eyes. "I teared up but I didn't cry my eyes out," she said. "I think your reputation remains safe."

" _Alright. That should be good enough - just enough for everyone to know you'll miss me and you're wondering if you made the biggest mistake of your life, but also that you'll survive._ "

"Yes," she chuckled. "That's exactly what I was going for." She reached over and turned the bedside light off. "So did you cry today?"

" _No, but I did yell at, like, five different people,_ " he admitted. " _And then Barry went around to them saying we'd broken up and I was taking it pretty hard._ "

"Good. So that means word should being spreading around quickly," Claire commented, pleased with how well this whole thing had all turned out. They'd never been caught in their lie. Any embarrassment that might have occurred after the events of the New Year's Eve party had been avoided. Plus, she and Owen were still able to remain friends.

" _Yeah. And I'm sure it'll get around to Mark pretty soon and he'll be available to ask you out,_ " he said lightly.

"We'll see," she said, deflecting. She knew Owen was probably right - that Mark would ask her out. She was still trying to decide if that was something she wanted.

"It's going to be an adjustment - us not seeing each other anymore," she commented.

" _Well, maybe in two months or something we can fake a reconnection and be friends,_ " he suggested with a laugh.

"That might work."

" _If Mark is okay with you talking to me, at least. He doesn't really seem like the jealous type, but you never know._ "

Claire rolled her eyes. "I don't know if anything will even happen with Mark," she said. "And you might be dating someone who doesn't want _you_ talking to _me_."

" _She'd have to be really something to get me to not be friends with you._ "

Claire bit her lip and smiled. "I'm going to miss that smooth Owen Grady charm."

" _Anytime you want some sweet talk, you know where I am._ "

"Good night, Owen."

" _Good night, beautiful._ "

...

"Hey," Mark greeted quietly as he stepped into her office with a soft knock. "I heard about you and Owen splitting up."

He walked up to her desk and stood with his hands tucked inside to pockets of his black slacks.

She smiled sadly. "Yeah, last week," she said.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "You guys seemed really great together."

Claire shrugged. "We had our problems. At the end, I think we realized we were just too different." In other words, she sucks at affection and Owen's annoyingly great at it.

Mark nodded. "Yeah, maybe. Well I just wanted to come by and say that I was sorry you're going through this." He gave her a lopsided smile. "And that if he thinks he can do any better than you..."

She felt herself blush and shuffled some papers around her desk. "Actually, I was the one that broke it off."

Mark nodded and smiled a little brighter. "Alright, well, I should let you get back to work. I know I bug you enough as it is." He laughed lightly and she returned his smile as he turned to leave her office. At her door, he stopped and hung his head down. Eventually he turned and looked to her with a weary expression. "What would you say to-" He stopped and started again, "If I wanted to ask you out," he began, smiling, "how long should I wait for that to be okay?"

Her brows rose in surprise, the flush on her cheeks deepening. That happened much faster than she expected. She was flattered, obviously.

"I mean, I don't want to seem too eager," he said. "But I also don't want you to think I'm not interested."

She averted her eyes to her computer screen, trying to control her grin. She couldn't immediately say yes to him though. She'd look like such a bitch if she started dating someone else right away. "I'd say about a month," she said quietly.

"A month," he confirmed with a nod. "Good. That sounds like a perfectly reasonable amount of time. A month." He walked the few steps back to her door backwards. "I will be pretty upset if in a month I ask you out and you say no, though."

She laughed quietly to herself mostly and shook her head as he left with a large smile on his face.

...

Three weeks later, Claire pulled up outside the control room and strolled causally inside, holding her cup of coffee and reading an email on her cell from the engineers on the construction of a new holding paddock for the T-Rex. Her attention was quickly drawn away from her phone as she walked inside. The normally quiet control room was buzzing with frenzied activity.

Vivian ran up to her, surprising Claire. "It's fine," she said quickly. "Everything's fine. Medical is on the scene."

"Okay, _stop_!" Claire said, throwing her hand up. "Start over. What happened?" She stepped around Vivian and walked to Lowery's side.

"A tech was caught in the raptor paddock," Vivian said, following her.

"He's okay," Lowery said. "Medical has already cleared him. It's the other guy who got it worse."

"Other guy?" Claire asked shakily. She had the horrible idea of who this _other guy_ might be.

"I gotta say," Lowery said as he pulled up the video of the incident, "this guy is a total badass."

The video played on the large screen in the front of the room. Claire watched as a young man was cleaning out the clearing under the bridge, her eyes followed him as he walked into the brush until he was almost completely hidden from view. A few seconds later, another technician approached the holding gate, peered inside the paddock, and not seeing the other tech, closed the large gate door. The technician in the brush noticed what had happened and was hurrying back to the gate to be let out but as that was happening, Claire watched in horror as the raptors began appearing one by one from the side of the screen, apparently having just been let out of wherever they had been kept during the cleaning.

The other technicians reacted within an instant. Many men stormed the bridge carrying stun guns, trained on the beasts circling the young technician on the ground. A man ran to the holding gate door and opened it. Claire recognized the vest and cargos - Owen. She watched as he crawled under the opening door and sprinted forward. The raptors were edging closer and one - she couldn't tell which from the quality of the video - swiped its arm out just as Owen reached the other man, pushing him out of the way. Claire thought the claws of the raptor had missed him at first but a second later, all the raptors had taken a step back, almost like they were surprised and Owen had a hand pressed to his chest.

The tech began running towards the exit, and a raptor flanking the end of the group opened its mouth and took a step towards the holding gate. It stopped when Owen took a step in its direction, holding out the hand that was pressed to his chest. Claire could only just make out the red coloring of his palm. Owen backed away from the raptors, slowly, holding both his arms wide. The raptors began following after him. Claire thought it looked like they were stalking him. Brilliantly, someone had the thought to release a pig, hoping to get the raptors' attention. It worked. The squealing and frantic movements of the pig drew the raptors eyes long enough that Owen was able to make it to the gate door and another tech, holding a stun gun still aimed at the dinosaurs, pressed the button to close the gate.

Once the gate was completely shut, Owen collapsed on the ground and that was all Claire needed to see. She turned and ran to the exit with Lowery calling after her, "He's been transported to the Med Bay!"

* * *

 **Evil, I know. =] I think this was my first real, dramatic cliff-hanger.**

 **Please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

Claire sped her car through the bumpy roadways toward the Med Bay, ten minutes from the control room. She barely took notice of the Med techs cleaning out the back of the island's lone ambulance truck of bloodied rags as she rushed inside the small building.

"Where's Owen Grady?" she frantically asked the first nurse she found. "He was just brought in from the raptor paddock."

The nurse pointed down the hallway to Claire's left and was saying something but Claire ignored her. At the end of the short hall was an open room filled with ten hospital beds that were all empty except for one which had the curtains mostly drawn around it. Claire noticed Barry standing a few feet back from the end of the bed, watching anxiously as nurses and doctors moved quickly around the bed and in and out of view behind the curtain.

She slowed down as she neared, the sound of her heels attracting Barry's attention. He didn't say anything as she approached which worried her. There was no immediate assurance that Owen was okay - not like Vivian had done in the control room. Finally coming to stand next to him, she was able to look inside the curtain.

Owen was laying on the bed with his eyes closed. There were wires and tubes connected to his arms and the medical staff was swarming around him. One doctor had a small flash light and was leaning over his face, lifting his eyelids one after the other to check his pupil's responses to the light. A small team of nurses were using gauze and bandages to staunch the bleeding of the wounds on his chest as another doctor worked on sewing up a section of his skin. It was difficult to see with all the people in her way, but the gashes on his chest seemed to cover his entire torso. She was sure the blood was making it look worse - or at least she hoped that's what was happening.

"He's going to be so mad that his vest is ruined," Barry muttered.

"I never knew what he kept in all those pockets..." she whispered, not able to find strength for anything stronger.

"No one knows. I think he just likes the way it looks."

Claire could almost smile.

"How did this happen?" she asked even though she'd seen the video.

"Tech got locked in the paddock and the raptors were released. Owen ran in there to get him out," Barry explained. "Blue was trying to grab at the tech when Owen knocked him out of the way and her claws..."

"Why didn't they stun the animals?" Claire asked. She was furious, though her tone hardly suggested it. She was going to have a word with the ACU stationed at the paddock.

"He was yelling at them not to," Barry said. He brought a hand up to rub his forehead. "They've never been stunned before; we don't know how they'd behave afterwards. It could destroy everything we've been working towards."

She turned to him. "The safety of the people that work on this island has to come first," she said fiercely. "I don't give a damn if the raptors never trust you guys again, if there's a risk to anyone's life, you should be taking the fucking shot!"

"Claire?" came Owen's gargled voice from the hospital bed. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Grady," one of the doctors called to him. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Owen tried to shift and the nurses and doctor attending to the wounds on his chest urged him to remain still.

"I got clawed at," Owen said simply. His eyes were open, searching out towards the foot of his bed where Claire and Barry were standing vigil. "How's the other guy?"

"There was another person hurt?" a doctor asked frantically.

"They cleared him on the scene," a nurse answered.

"He wasn't injured, just shaken," Barry explained. "You got him out, Owen."

"Well, there's that at least," he said tiredly. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Did I hear Claire?"

She couldn't speak. Her throat was closing up as she looked at him. He looked broken and it felt like she was breaking as a result.

One of the doctors looked up and made eye contact with her. "Yes, she's here," he answered for her. "We need to get you patched up and then your friends can visit with you." He took over for one of the nurses and she walked up to Claire and Barry, ushering them out toward a small sitting room off the hall.

"What are you doing here?" Barry asked her as they settled into chairs on opposite sides of the room from each other.

"I got to the control room right after it happened. I came down here to make sure he was okay," she answered.

"He'll be okay," he said confidently. "You don't have to stay here."

She stared at him. She felt confused, surprised, and a little angry at his subtle suggestion that she leave.

"I want to be here," she said firmly. "He's not just your friend."

"You're not together anymore," Barry argued.

She leaned forward in her chair, gripping the armrests tightly. "We were never really together," she hissed. "You know that. It was a fake relationship."

"That doesn't mean the feelings were fake," he countered quickly.

His words took her by surprise. It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to her. She'd wondered throughout the six months of their sham of a relationship if maybe Owen really did have feelings for her. He was just such a damn good actor. And that was the rub, wasn't it? She couldn't really tell if he was genuine or just giving an Oscar-worthy performance. She had reveled in the simplicity of being publicly single again. She'd been confused and overwhelmed by Owen's affection and was happy to not have that constantly weighing on her mind anymore.

But she certainly wasn't expecting his best friend to come out and almost admit that he had feelings for her.

"He's not happy," Barry continued. "He's been different since you ended things. I'm worried that you being here will make this worse."

"Well I'm not going anywhere," she said stubbornly. He was her friend, first and foremost. Confusing fake relationship be damned.

...

"He's all stitched up," said the doctor that came into the sitting room an hour later. "He's awake but still pretty out of it."

"Are you sure he shouldn't be transported to San Juan?" Claire asked quickly, standing.

"No, that shouldn't be necessary," the doctor assured her. "The cuts, while deep, didn't reach any organs so we were able to take care of them. He was lucky. We've seen what raptors can do with very little effort. If he had been any closer to them we'd be having a very different conversation right now."

"Can we see him?" Claire asked after a moment of letting those words sink in.

"Yes, but try not to disturb him too much. He's lost a lot of blood so he'll be tired for a while. He's getting blood now," he explained.

The doctor turned and opened his arm out to the side indicating they were free to go.

When they got to his bedside, Owen was fiddling around with the tubes and wires connected to him with a look of great consternation on his face.

"Owen," Claire breathed as she approached.

He looked up and smiled weakly. "Hey," he croaked.

"Hey," Barry said. "You're a crazy, very foolish man." He placed a hand on Owen's shoulder.

"I have heard that before," Owen said, nodding. "How are the girls? They didn't shock them, did they?" Claire wanted to strangle him for being worried about the raptors when he was laying in a hospital bed.

Barry shook his head. "No, you managed to handle it without them needing to."

" _Handle_ ," Claire muttered in disgust as Owen was letting out a sigh of relief. Barry shot her a glare.

"That's good," he said, not hearing Claire. "You should go back there to make sure they're okay."

"Yes, I will," Barry said. "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't going to have to find a replacement for you."

Owen smiled as he leaned back and closed his eyes. "You mean you were holding your breath to see if you'd get a promotion soon?"

"Exactly."

Owen laughed and then winced.

"Okay," Barry said. "I'm going to go before I accidentally kill you."

"'Preciate it. Tell Blue I'm not mad at her. But fire that kid."

"Which one?"

"I don't know," Owen said, his words starting to slur as he got more and more tired. "Pick one."

Barry left quietly as Owen had apparently fallen asleep. He looked like he wanted to say something to Claire but she gave him a threatening glare. She wasn't leaving, no matter what Barry told her.

A nurse brought a chair over to the side of the bed so she could sit. She grabbed hold of his hand and rested her head on thin mattress, suddenly exhausted as her adrenaline faded. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when Owen shifted.

"When did you get here?" he asked groggily.

"I've been here since they were stitching you up," she said as she raised her head, still holding his hand.

He looked confused. "I feel...high." She snorted, and he laughed a little. "Ow, that hurts."

"Sorry," she said. "Don't laugh. I'm sure they've got you on some pain killers." She looked up at the bag feeding his IV, not that she knew what she was looking at, really. "That's probably what's making you feel that way."

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"You're in the Med Bay," she said like it was obvious. "Of course I'm going to be here."

"We broke up," he said. "Exes don't usually do this."

"You're my friend," she said patiently. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

He hummed and closed his eyes again.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked softly, now wondering if he didn't want her there.

"No, stay," he said, eyes still closed. "I miss seeing you."

She smiled and stood to lean over him, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Sleep," she demanded.

"Only with you," he said so quietly she almost didn't hear him. His lips twitched into a smile before falling lax as he lost consciousness.

She called Zara as he slept and canceled all her meetings for the day, stating there was an emergency but not going into any detail.

Around four that evening Owen woke again, this time seeming much more alert.

"You're still here," he said in surprise.

"Or am I? Maybe I'm a dream," she teased as she sat on the side of his bed, facing him.

"If this were a dream, you and I would be naked and in my bungalow, not the Med Bay," he said, sitting up higher. "And what a mean thing to do - try to trick someone in the hospital. Shame on you, Claire Dearing."

"What, no nurse fantasy for you?" she asked, laughing.

"Not with you," he said shaking his head. "Usually it's just me making you scream my name in my shower, on my bed, the kitchen counter, on my motorcycle-"

"Okay," she interrupted with a slow smile. "That's good enough. I get the picture."

"It's a hard one to get out of your head," he said, smiling flirtatiously. "Try not to let it keep you up at night. Of course, if it does...you know my number."

"Thank you for the offer."

"Anytime."

They chuckled and Claire grabbed his hand. "I do believe this is the first time I've seen you shirtless."

Owen glanced down at his bare chest which was almost completely covered in bandages and groaned. "Man, that was my favorite shirt."

"Your vest got cut up and bloodied, too."

He let his head drop back against his pillow. "It just keeps getting better and better," he said sarcastically.

"Do you need anything?" she asked earnestly.

He shook his head, sobering up his humorous mood. "No, I'm fine. You don't have to stay here."

"Stop," she deflected.

"I'm serious. It wouldn't be the first time I've sat in a hospital bed with no visitors. I'll be fine. I know you're busy with your big, important job."

"Shut up," she said, chuckling. "I want to be here."

"You want to sit here with me doing absolutely nothing?" he asked disbelieving.

"Nothing would make me happier," she insisted.

"You're full of crap. But if you don't care about wasting all your precious time on little ol' me, then I won't stop you," he said with a shrug.

"I'm going to let them know you're awake," she said, standing up.

"See? Already you can't stand it."

"I've been here for three hours already. Give me a break."

He smiled at her, not saying anything so she left his side to find a nurse or doctor.

...

By seven that evening, Owen was getting restless and annoyed.

"I'm fine," he insisted to the nurse. "Let me go home."

"You lost a lot of blood today," the nurse said.

"And then you guys gave it all back to me," he said, wiggling his arm with the IV. "Just give me some pain meds and send me home. I'll be fine."

"The doctor wants to keep you here over night."

Owen rolled his eyes. "For what? What's going to happen?"

"You could rip open your stitches and bleed out," the nurse retorted smartly.

"Stop arguing with them," Claire pleaded.

"I won't move," Owen promised the nurse. "I will go home, lay down in bed and not move."

"And when you get hungry?" the nurse questioned. "Or have to use the bathroom? How are you going to manage that?"

"I'm smart and inventive. I will find a way," he said.

Claire rolled her eyes. "What if I were to stay with him?" she asked. "I could make sure he doesn't do anything stupid and if something does happen, I can call it in."

The nurse looked at her warily, shifting his feet. She knew he didn't want to say no to her. Even though she technically had no real power over the Medical Unit, people still respected her like she did.

"I'd have to check with the doctor," he said with a sigh. "I don't recommend it, though. You understand you almost died, right? An inch closer to that raptor and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Please go ask," Owen said. "I'd much rather sleep in my own bed tonight."

Claire and Owen both had to sign a waiver but they were able to leave. He had complained about them wheeling him out to her car in a wheelchair, but as soon as he got in her passenger seat, he heaved a great sigh like climbing into her car was an extreme effort.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked before she started her car. "We can go back inside."

"No," he said. "Get me the hell out of here."

He had to direct her to his house as she'd still never been there. She had expected some sort of cottage on the lake, but the tiny abode consisted of a small trailer and what looked like a raised shed.

"Home sweet home," he groaned as he opened the car door.

"Please wait for me!" she cried as she rushed around her car to the passenger side. "If you rip your stitches I will be so mad at you."

She swung one of his arms around her shoulders and supported him as much as she could as they made the slow journey up the steps to his door. He was wobbly from the pain, and Claire suspected pain killers might have something to do with it too.

"My keys are in my left pocket," he said. She looked up at him and noticed he was smiling. "It'll hurt if I reach for them."

"Unbelievable," she muttered, reaching around him into his pocket.

"I'll always remember this as the night you nearly got to second base with me," he joked as she opened the door.

"To the left," he ordered, directing her into the small bedroom that hardly contained more than the large bed. She eased his weight off of her and onto the mattress.

"You don't have to stay," he said as he began kicking off his boots wincing every so often.

"Yes I do," she said with a sigh. Like she was going to leave him to injure himself even more?

"I'll be good, I promise."

"Shut up," she said. She helped him lay back onto his pillow and stood back up with her hands on her hips. "Okay. Now what?"

He chuckled. "Sponge bath?"

"Stop harassing the help."

" _The help?_ " he asked incredulously. "I never thought I'd hear you refer to yourself like that."

Her phone started ringing. She pulled it out, glanced at the caller ID and saw Mark's name. She sent the call to voicemail and silenced her phone. She set it on the small table next to the bed, face down.

Owen watched her actions, looking a little stunned, she thought.

"They'll call back if it's an emergency," she said.

"Who was it?" She didn't answer which seemed to be answer enough for him. "How are you and Mark?"

"There is no me and Mark," she replied, avoiding his eyes as she arranged the quilt and sheets around his legs and waist.

"He hasn't asked you out yet?"

"I told him to give me a month." She smiled a little at the memory of their conversation together. "I didn't want to come off as insensitive."

She peeked up at him and saw him smiling softly. "Good idea."

"Do you want anything? Water? Food?"

"Beer?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure. That'll go great with your medications."

She stood and walked out of the bedroom and down into the miniscule dining and kitchen area of the trailer. She opened his sparsely stocked fridge, finding a bottle of water hidden behind a pack of beer. She grabbed the bottles of pain meds and antibiotics from her purse and brought all items over to his bedside table.

"Your phone buzzed again," Owen said. "He probably left a voicemail."

Claire picked up her phone and saw that he was right. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

" _Hey, Claire, it's Mark,_ " she heard as she played it back. She didn't have it on speaker but Owen was incredibly quiet as she listened so she wondered if he could hear it too. " _Your assistant told me you had an emergency today. I just wanted to call and check up with you - make sure everything is okay; that you're okay. Give me a call back when you can. See you tomorrow, I hope._ "

"Call him back," Owen said as she placed the phone back on the table.

"And say what? 'I'm going to be staying at my ex boyfriend's place for a couple of days'?"

Owen shrugged. "Tell him I'm hurt. I'm sure he'll understand."

She shook her head. "Would you? If it were Daniel?"

"If McPherson were injured and I knew you were at his place, I'd walk you through killing him in his sleep and making it look like an accident," he said seriously.

She shook her head, chuckling. She leaned her elbows on her knees, observing her surroundings.

"How'd you find out so quickly?" Owen asked.

"I had just pulled up to the control room. They showed me the video," she explained.

He grimaced. "How'd it look?"

"Like you saved that kid's life," she said proudly.

He shook his head. She saw his jaw clench as he looked up at the ceiling.

"You really don't have to stay," he said after a while. She'd gotten up and walked around his trailer, taking in the small quarters.

"I don't know how you can live so cramped like this," she said, ignoring him.

"It's not so bad with just me," he said. "If you're going to stay, there's clothes in that drawer, there, that you can sleep in." He pointed to the small chest of drawers in the corner of his room.

She sighed and walked over, opening the drawer and looking through his t-shirts. She pulled out a dark blue shirt with NAVY written across the chest in bold white letters. She held it up to her body and turned around for him to see.

"Good?" she asked, making sure he didn't mind if she wore that particular shirt.

"Perfect," he agreed. "Boxers are in the drawer above."

She turned back around, blushing a little as she opened his underwear drawer and pulled out a pair of grey boxer briefs.

"Wearing your clothes is something a girlfriend would do," she pointed out, still not turning around.

"A girlfriend would change in front of me too," he said. She could hear his smile in his words.

"You're already so fragile tonight," she said, turning around to smile coyly at him, "I don't want to risk you having a heart attack, too."

He grinned as she walked into the tiny bathroom and quickly changed. She folded her skirt and blouse neatly, hiding her bra and underwear between the folds.

"I never thought I'd ever actually get to see you in my clothes," he called to her as she placed her folded clothes and purse on the bench seat of the dining table. "I've dreamt it a couple of times..."

She smiled as she walked back to his bedroom and climbed into the bed next to him. "I never thought I'd ever be in your bed. I've dreamt it a couple of times," she teased.

"Don't," he groaned. "It's hard enough having you here and not being able to move. Torturing me with your sex dreams is just cruel."

She laughed and rolled on to her side, facing him. "It's nice to hang out with you again."

"Yeah, I wish I didn't have to get mauled to death for you to finally come over here, but ya know, beggars can't be choosers."

She reached a hand out and traced an invisible pattern on his deltoid. "I'm happy you're okay."

"Me too," he said evenly.

She thought about how bad it could have been. If he was even an inch or so closer to Blue she might not be having this conversation with him. She wouldn't be in his bed, in his clothes, lying next to him. She'd have lost someone who had become so important to her, someone she cares so much about. She wouldn't be able to touch him like she was. She'd have never gotten the chance to bicker and exchange banter with him again. He'd never make her laugh again.

Suddenly, there was so was much emotion coursing through her. There was the familiar pricking sensation behind her eyes as she began to cry. She tried to stop, she was usually so good at controlling her tears. But then she thought of the bloodied rags the med techs were emptying out of the ambulance, the red color of his hand she'd seen on the video, the bloodied gloves and clothes of the nurses and doctors at the Med Bay. Tears started pouring down her cheeks and she was so thankful that he had his eyes closed and seemed to be drifting off to sleep.

"Can you have the video sent over to me?" he asked suddenly, eyes still closed. "It all happened so fast I don't remember how the girls reacted. I can't believe they didn't lunge at me when they saw I was hurt."

He turned his head in her direction with a lopsided smile, opening his eyes. His expression changed to utter horror as he saw her tear-streaked face. She turned her head into the pillow, embarrassed.

"What's wrong?" he asked frantically.

She could feel him shifting and then wincing in pain.

"Stop," she said tearfully with a small laugh anyway. She sat up next to him. "Stop moving so much. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It's nothing," she lied. "Just relax. I'm supposed to be taking care of you, remember?" She wiped her cheeks and under her eyes which had, thankfully, stopped the water works.

"Claire," he said softly. "Tell me what's wrong." He reached his hand up and cupped her cheek.

He wouldn't be able to do that if he'd been an inch closer.

"Claire," he whispered.

The tears came easily once more and she turned her face into his hand, grabbed it in hers, and kissed his palm.

"Come here," he said. He pulled her gently down next to him, wrapping his arm around her as she laid on her side, curling into him as much as she dared with his bandages. "I'm okay," he said, his lips pressed down to the top of her head. "I'm here."

"I don't know what I would have done," she cried. "If you-"

"Shh. It's fine. I'm okay," he repeated. "Stop thinking about it. I'm not going anywhere."

They laid together for a while, Claire trying to contain her tears, Owen running his hand over her back in soothing circles. She could feel his lips puckering against the top of her head every now and again and, eventually, it made her smile. She wondered how different life would be for her right now if the two of them hadn't started their fake relationship all those months ago.


	15. Chapter 15

**You guys are amazing. I'm loving your reviews. It's really encouraging to see so much enthusiasm for this story. Thanks!**

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There was a loud noise coming from...somewhere. She really wished it would go away. It buzzed continuously and she rolled over, trying to escape the disturbing noise. The bed she was laying on shifted and there was another noise. A soft, throaty groan. Strange. Was that her?

"Hullo," a deep voice said. She stirred awake even more. "Who's this?" She was laying on an arm and her back was pressed against a warm body. "Yeah, hang on." The body shifted again and something like cool glass was placed on the side of her head. "Talk," the voice demanded.

"Hello?" she asked, lifting a hand to hold the phone in place.

" _Uh, Claire?_ " the voice on the other line asked. It was a familiar voice. Why was she so tired? She could hardly think. " _It's Mark. Is everything ok?_ "

"Mark!" she said suddenly. Her eyes shot open and she propped herself up on her elbow. "Yes, everything's fine. Sorry." What was she apologizing for?

" _I never heard back from you last night,_ " he said slowly. " _I figured I'd call you around the time you usually get to work in the morning but it sounds like you're still in bed. Are you...are you at your apartment?_ "

"No," she said panicky. Owen answered her phone. Mark called and Owen answered and they both sounded like they'd just woken up. How the hell was she supposed to make this okay? "I'm not going into work today. There was an accident yesterday. Owen was attacked by one of the raptors."

"She didn't attack me," Owen mumbled sleepily from beside her.

" _Jesus_ ," Mark declared. " _Is he okay?_ "

"Yeah, he's okay now. He was cut up pretty bad, though, so he's covered in stitches. I stayed at his place last night to help out. He's in a lot of pain," she said. Maybe if she made her voice so sympathetic and pitiful Mark wouldn't be mad.

" _Oh_ ," he said with some surprise. " _That was nice of you._ "

"Nothing happened," she said immediately. "We broke up. I'm just here as a friend."

Mark chuckled. " _You don't owe me anything Claire. I think it's nice that you're trying to be there for him. Call me if you need anything. Tell him I said I'm glad he's okay and I hope he recovers quickly._ "

"I will," she said, relieved. "Thanks, Mark. I'll talk to you later." She hung up the phone and collapsed back down on Owen's arm.

"Good?" he asked shortly.

She hummed and laced her fingers with his. He bent his arm at the elbow and brought his hand around her body, closer to him so it was like she was giving herself a hug.

"We slept together last night," she muttered, nuzzling back into her pillow and closing her eyes.

"You slept," he corrected. "I laid here not being able to get comfortable."

"Why didn't you wake me up? I could have helped," she said.

"It's fine. I took some pills which knocked me out for a few hours. Plus you looked exhausted; you needed the sleep."

They laid together in silence for a while longer. Eventually, Claire got up and helped him into the small bathroom. He was much more stable that morning than he was the night before. He was able to stand up a bit straighter and didn't need her support for the pain (and also the pain killers) like he had.

She found a loaf of bread in a cupboard and made them some toast. She divvied out the medication he was supposed to take that morning and set them down next to his plate.

"You need a bigger place," she said as he sat down at the small dining table.

He shook his head. "I'm fine here."

"The hallway is about as wide as you are. You could never have anyone live here with you."

"Who would live here with me?" he asked before shoveling some toast into his mouth.

"A girlfriend?" she suggested. "I'm sure people thought we were living together, or at least splitting our time between my place and yours."

"We can just say I always came to your place if people ask. I don't think they will at this point."

"I don't think that would work," Claire disagreed. "You're not the type of guy to give up his man cave."

"Sure I am," he said. "Plus, everyone thinks I was crazy about you. I would have done anything for you."

She gazed at him as she picked at her piece of toast. "Barry said something interesting to me yesterday while you were getting stitches," she said lightly.

"Barry says a lot of interesting things," he replied gruffly.

"He said that just because our relationship was fake, that doesn't mean the feelings were fake."

Owen glanced up at her and held her gaze. "Are you trying to tell me you have feelings for me?" he goaded. A smirk flitted across his face.

She rolled her eyes. "No, but...the way he said it... He's your friend," she said lamely. She took a deep breath. "A while back we promised each other that if the lines of our relationship ever got blurred we'd let the other one know."

"You're asking if I have feelings for you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It was just the way Barry said it."

Owen laughed which she took great offense to.

"I don't know why you're laughing. You flirt with me, you tell me you like kissing me, you tell me you've missed me... It's not that hard of a leap to make." she challenged angrily.

"That's not-" he started with a heavy sigh. "You know I think you're great."

"Then why are you laughing?"

He didn't say anything. Instead he stood and placed his empty plate in the sink. He swallowed the pills she's laid out for him and trekked back into the bedroom.

"You're not going to answer me?"

"I want to go to the paddock today and see the girls," he said, still ignoring her. He pulled open his chest of drawers and began rifling through his clothes.

" _Owen_ ," she called, frustrated.

"Claire! I am not the guy for you," he snapped, slamming the drawer shut. "So even if I am into you, it doesn't matter. You like Mark. He likes you. He's your type. He's the successful businessman. Be with him!"

She bristled at his outburst. She didn't even know how she felt about Mark. Mark was just sort of...there for her. She thought he was nice, and attractive, and he was _clearly_ into her. And yes, he was much more her type. What she didn't understand was why Owen seemed so intent on pushing her to be with him.

She stood from the dining bench and moved to stand in front of him. "You're not going to the paddock today," she said. Her voice was barely above a whisper. She knew he didn't want to talk to her about this and she wasn't sure she was ready to hear it either, as much as she pushed him. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine," he said.

"Owen Grady! You are not fine!" she yelled. _God_ , he could be so frustrating sometimes. "You nearly died yesterday! You are hurt. Your body needs to heal and you need your rest! So no, you're not fine and you're not going anywhere!"

She didn't even realize she was crying until he wiped the tears off her cheeks.

"Go home, Claire," he said. "This is too much for you. You don't need to deal with this."

She glared at his chest just above where his bandages started. "I'm staying here to make sure you don't do anything stupid. If I seem upset it's because my best friend nearly got ripped to shreds yesterday and..." She let out a shuttering sigh and brought her hands up to cover her face. "Owen, I care about you so much," she began again. "Please just let me be here for you. You've done so much for me, let me do something for you."

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay, you can stay. I'll stay." He took the two steps needed to get to his bed and sat down on the edge. "Claire, you gotta know...I care about you, too. I just want you to be happy."

"Shh," she hushed as she approached him. She sat down next to him and put her head on his shoulder. "I'm happy here with you."

"Really?" he snorted. "Because you've cried about three times already."

She smiled. "It's been a stressful twenty-four hours." She lifted her head to look at him. "This sort of thing is never allowed to happen again," she said, indicating towards his bandages.

He moved to lay back and she moved with him, laying beside him as she'd done the night before. She grabbed his hand next to hers.

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place. We have procedures and rules set up so that kind of thing doesn't happen," he said, staring up at the ceiling.

"So why did it?" she asked as she turned towards him and ran her free hand along his arm. His muscles twitched beneath her touch.

"I don't know. I didn't see it all happen. People just started shouting and I ran over and saw Blue and Charlie and then Dennis inside with them."

"You saved his life," she said quietly. He didn't respond; she figured he was embarrassed by the praise. "Of course, you almost lost yours in the process, so you lose points for that," she joked.

"I'll try to do better next time," he said.

"No, there won't be a next time," she said sternly. "You're not allowed to do that ever again."

He turned his head to see her and smiled. "I'm not planning on it, but you never know."

" _I_ know," she said confidently.

"How?"

"Because if you care about me and want me to be happy like you say you do, you won't put me through this again."

"So if another tech gets caught in there with them what do you want me to do?" he asked with a hint of humor in his tone.

"Tell him it was nice knowing him."

Owen's brows rose and he barked out a laugh. "Wow. You're heartless."

"No, I'm not," she argued, shifting closer to him. "I just care more about you than anyone else."

"Don't let Mark hear you say that," Owen grumbled.

"Mark, shmark," she said, speaking into his shoulder. "You're still my favorite fake boyfriend."

"Ex," he corrected.

"We'll see," she said. Closing her eyes, she pretended to be trying to sleep. She knew he was watching her.

She wasn't sure what had prompted her to say something like that. Maybe it's because their discussion this morning had made it pretty clear to her that he felt something between them. Maybe it was that after the scare of yesterday she wanted to keep her eye on him for a while. Or maybe she was figuring out that laying here, next to him, in his bed, in his clothes, was the most comfortable she'd been in a long time. And that had to mean something, right?

"I can't do the fake relationship anymore," he said quietly.

"Shut up; I'm sleeping," she whispered.

"Me too. I'm talking in my sleep," he said.

"Okay." She smiled and turned her face down between his arm and the mattress to hide her smirk.

"I sometimes say weird things in my sleep," he admitted.

"Me too," she said, her voice muffled.

"I happy you're here with me," he confessed. "You're a much better bedmate than Barry."

She laughed. "I'm happy to be in bed with you, too."

"I'm trying to commit those words in your voice to memory so that later I can dream about it and it'll be in a very different context."

"What kind of context?"

"The sexy kind of context."

She laughed again, lifting her face out of hiding. "You're disturbing my sleep."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'll just lay here and think quietly about the sexy context."

"Me too," she said with a sigh.

He pulled his arm out from between them and snaked it under her to wrap around her back, his hand running along her arm and his fingers traveling up the oversized sleeve of the shirt.

"I'm stealing this shirt," she said. "It's very comfortable."

"It's one of my favorites," he said. "So you'll steal it over my dead body."

"I'm sure we can work something out," she said confidently. She brought her hand up to rest lightly on his chest. She ran her fingers up along the line of his clavicle, to the pulse point on his neck, and then up to his chin, moving over to his cheek to smooth down his stubble.

"I'm not shaving," he warned quietly.

"I don't want you to," she said. "I like it."

They locked eyes for a moment and she continued to run her fingers over his facial hair. He looked away first, down at her lips, she noticed.

"Do you need anything?" she asked suddenly. His eyes snapped back up to hers. "Anything to drink or something else to eat?"

He shook his head. "No. I just want to lay here with you."

She turned her head away from him and shifted to be more comfortable. "Okay," she agreed.

It wasn't long before they were born asleep again.

...

"Claire, I swear to God, if I don't get a burrito in my stomach in the next thirty minutes I'm going to die," Owen complained petulantly as they climbed back into her car after a check up at the Med Bay. "There's a Chipotle on Main Street. Let's go there."

"Seriously? A burrito?" she asked as she started her Mercedes. "Shouldn't you be eating healthier than that?"

"These stitches are from claw marks not a triple bypass." He placed his hand over his chest. She rolled her eyes. "Come on, we've hardly ate anything the last few days."

"Alright, fine." She sighed heavily and turned the car in the direction of the main strip on the island that consisted of various shops and restaurants.

She got a text from Mark as they were on their way. He'd been checking in every now and then to see how Owen was doing. He offered to help out in whatever way either one of them might need. It was extremely nice and mature of him. Owen, however, seemed to be a little irritated by it, which is why she was surprised by his next suggestion.

"Ask him if he wants to come to lunch with us."

" _Mark?_ " she asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Why not?"

"You don't think that will be a little awkward?" She saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye.

"He's probably wondering what's going on between us and if he's still got a chance with you. I would be if I were in his shoes," he explained. "Invite him out. Even if he says no that should reassure him that you're interested."

She hesitated - and it wasn't just because she wasn't sure if she _was_ interested.

Claire had been staying with Owen almost all week. Zara had gone to her apartment and packed up some essentials for her, including some outfits and pajamas (which Claire pretended she forgot so she could continue sleeping in Owen's shirt) and brought them to the bungalow for her. And so for the last three nights she'd been sleeping in Owen's bed with his arm wrapped around her. He'd been kissing her head and whispering good night. He'd been holding her hand as they laid in bed, letting the days pass with little activity. He'd told her about his parents and brother and she talked about her family. She told him about her dad leaving; about her sister's strained relationship with their mother and her own husband; about her mom's sudden passing two years earlier. He'd told her some about his time in the Navy and why he joined to begin with; about how Susanna Hart broke his heart in the eleventh grade; about how the raptors were with him when they were just babies, freshly hatched.

They were getting to know each other better - more so than when they were fake dating, even. She was now convinced he felt something for her. How far beyond physical attraction those feelings went was still to be determined. But regardless, she _knew_. Between Barry's comment and Owen's outburst, and on top of that all the flirting and teasing and kissing during their fake relationship... she knew _something_ was there. She'd yet to fully confront him about it, though. She wasn't sure what would happen if she did or if she was ready for anything to happen - good or bad. She didn't even know what would count as "good" and what as "bad."

Bottom line - she was confused. She was confused and, honestly, a little annoyed that he wouldn't just come out and tell her how he was feeling.

"Call him," he insisted.

And then there was this shit, she thought angrily. He was pushing her to be with Mark and it was really starting to piss her off. She knew he was into her so why the hell was he trying to convince her to be with another guy?

"Okay," she said finally. _You want to see me with someone else? Fine! I'll be with someone else!_

Mark agreed to meet up with them and when he walked into the casual restaurant, he gave Owen a hearty handshake.

"Glad to see you out and about," he said, taking a seat at their table across from him. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Claire just took me to the Med Bay and they took another look at me. Everything seems to be healing well," he answered.

"They were worried about infection," Claire said. "Like cat-scratch fever but with raptors." _I should have had them look at his stupid brain_ , she thought irritably.

Mark nodding. "Right, I can imagine. How many stitches did you need?"

"Eighty-three."

Mark whistled lowly. "Ouch."

The three went up to the counter to place their orders. Claire scoffed and rolled her eyes at how much food Owen ordered.

"You haven't been feeding me," he declared, seeing her reaction.

"I made you dinner last night!" she proclaimed as they made their way back to the table.

"Babe, it was spaghetti," he said, sitting down. "There wasn't even meat in the sauce. It was basically like eating air."

"Call me _babe_ one more time," she threatened, pointing her plastic fork at him.

Owen shook his head, smiling, and glanced at Mark. "She's vicious."

"What's scarier - her or the raptors?" Mark asked.

"Claire," he said confidently. "Definitely Claire."

Mark chuckled and gave her a wink.

"You'll find that out for yourself soon enough, though," Owen said with such a extreme air of nonchalance Claire knew it was fake.

Mark's eyes widened fractionally as he turned his attention back to Owen. "Pardon?"

" _Owen!_ " Claire hissed, willing him to keep his mouth shut.

"You know, when you two start dating," he continued casually. "Speaking of which, I feel that it's my duty to tell you that if you hurt her, I will kill you. And I have raptors that would be more than willing to help get rid of your body."

"Oh my God," Claire groaned, hiding her face in her hands for one brief moment before she reached her hand out to Mark, resting it on his forearm. "I'm so sorry," she told him. "He's kidding, obviously."

She had never, not in her wildest thoughts, ever thought Owen would come right out and say something like that to Mark. His annoying comments to her about getting together with the CFO were one thing, this was on an entirely new level of stubbornness.

"Sort of," Owen added with a large grin.

Mark sputtered momentarily before collecting himself with an awkward laugh. "Wow, I wasn't expecting that," he said. "I didn't realize you would...tell him," he said slowly to Claire.

Owen shrugged. "We're still friends. Plus, I saw it coming. You're not exactly subtle."

"Please, stop talking," she begged.

"This doesn't have to be weird," Owen said seriously. He sat up straighter and put his hand on Claire's shoulder. "You know I just want you to be happy. I would have liked to have been the one to do it but I'm not." He looked back over to Mark. "With any luck, it'll be you."

Mark stared quizzically at Owen while Claire gaped in an undignified fashion.

"That's very...mature of you," he finally said. "Thanks. Not many guys would be as cool about this."

Owen shrugged again. "Well, it helps that you're not a dick."

Mark laughed. "I appreciate that."

Claire sat back, stunned. What the hell was happening?

"You've just got to promise me one thing," Owen continued. Mark listened intently. "Shove it in McPherson's face every chance you get."

"You really hate that guy, huh?" Mark asked, smiling.

"Yes. In fact, if he gives you a hard time too and you get tired of it, call me. I've got this plan worked out in my head but it needs another person to work smoothly."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. "But you said you'd kill me...who would help you out with that?"

"Oh, killing you would be way different than killing McPherson. If you hurt her, I come after you with a weapon. Depending on _how_ you hurt her will determine _which_ weapon and how long I drag out your pain. But McPherson...I'm going to scare the living shit out of him. He's going to spend at least three to four hours in sheer terror."

A slow smile spread over Mark's face before he turned to Claire. "You're ex boyfriend is a creep."

"Tell me about it," she muttered. "But he's a creep because he cares." She gave Owen a pointed look. He smiled at her.

"So what happened with the raptors?" Mark asked.

Owen launched into the story of the attack and at the end asked Claire if they could go to the control room and watch the recording.

"I've never been inside the control room, actually," Mark said. "I'd like to go, if that's alright."

Both men were looking at her expectantly, with hopeful eyes.

" _Boys_ ," she muttered before standing with her tray. "Let's go," she said.

...

In the control room Owen bullied Lowery into stopping what he was in the middle of to bring the footage of the raptor paddock up on the big screen.

"So this is where you run the island," Mark said softly as he stood beside her. The sleeve of his jacket brushed against her bare arm. She could feel the heat of his body beneath the fabric. She smiled nervously at him.

Lowery pulled the video and began playing it, Owen watched with rapt attention. She wasn't thrilled to be watching this again, and Mark's closeness was making her jittery. She took a step forward which placed her almost directly behind Owen who had taken a step down the platform room to be closer to the screen.

"They don't seem him," she heard him mutter as one of the techs closed the gate to the paddock, locking the other tech inside. "So they let to girls out thinking everyone's clear." The tech runs out of the brush at the sound of the gate closing and the raptors enter the screen one by one.

"And here you come," she whispered. She placed a hand on his shoulder as the video continued. Her fingers clenched as Blue's claws swipe out and Owen stumbles on the screen.

"Wow," Mark breathed from behind them as the recording shows that raptors halt as Owen throws his arms out to the sides. "That's incredible."

"Stop it," Owen said. She thought he was barking at Mark but then he jerked his head back to Lowery and pointed at the screen. "Go back." Lowery rewound the recording until Owen told him to stop. "Look at that!" he said in awe. "Look at Blue. Do you see her?" he asked the room. "She pulls back as soon as she realizes what she's done."

"She realizes she made a mistake," Mark said.

"No," Owen said, shaking his head, his eyes still glued to the screen. "That wasn't a mistake - I mean, yes, it was. She didn't mean to get me, she was trying to get the kid, but look! Look at her back down. The others are closing in still but she's not in it anymore. That's regret." Owen turned around to Claire. "I have to go see her."

"Owen," she sighed.

He turned back around and watched the remainder of the video. He watched himself collapse just as the gate closed with him safely behind it and the techs swarm around him. Claire saw him raise a hand to his chest as he continued watching.

"Were you conscious?" Lowery asked.

Owen shook his head. "Barely. I don't remember anything except being on the ground and Barry telling me I'm an idiot."

Mark chuckled and Claire turned to see him shaking his head. "Gotta say I agree with him," he said. "That was all kinds of stupid. Brave - but stupid."

"That's the unofficial motto of the SEALs," Owen joked. Lowery stopped the video and pulled up the live feeds of the park. Owen took a step back up onto the platform, on level with Claire. "I have to go see her."

"You've already had a very long day," she said softly. "Let's wait until tomorrow. You need to rest."

"Claire, I'm fine," he insisted. "It's just some scrapes. I didn't even need surgery."

"Please, Owen," she begged. "I just want you to heal."

"I'm fine," he repeated again. "You've been taking excellent care of me. Seriously. Apart from me being a little malnourished I'm practically as good as new!"

Claire snorted and shook her head. "You can make your own damn food from now on then."

"Hon, I've always made my own food," he said delicately. He looked past her to Mark. "Don't let her cook anything for you. It's not edible no matter what it is."

"You're awful," she said with a frown. "Fine. You want to go see your damn raptors? Fine." She pivoted and headed towards the exit. "Maybe they'll finish you off this time and I won't have to listen to your complaining anymore."

"Keep your fingers crossed," he said as he followed her.

...

Claire and Owen were settling in for the evening as she was mulling over how to broach the delicate topic of his insisting she be with Mark. He was still excitedly rambling on about how the raptors had behaved with him that afternoon during their visit to the paddock. Blue had seemed very repentant and the others were hesitant to do much of anything which was a good sign to Owen, apparently. He was going on and on about how that meant they knew something had happened, how they remembered him being injured. The fact that they weren't challenging his authority now that he was wounded was a very big deal.

"You know, I think I'm doing a lot better. You probably don't need to stay here anymore," he said as she was pulling back the sheets and quilt on what she considered "her side" of the bed.

"I was just thinking the same thing," she lied. She glanced up at him as he lifted off his shirt. His chest was stilled bandaged and would be for at least another week, she figured. "I'll pack up my things in the morning and get out of your hair."

"Don't feel like you _have_ to leave," he said teasingly with a crooked smile as he eased himself into the bed. "You're more than welcome to stay."

"I think it's time," she said, smirking. "We have been broken up for some time now. How do you expect to get over me if I'm in your bed every night?"

"I'd love to get over you while you're in my bed," he joked flirtatiously.

She laid down beside him and he reached over to turn off the bedside light, allowing the darkness to shelter them. He didn't try to put his arm around her, but she could feel his arm along the length of hers. She moved her fingers to run along the skin on the back of his wrist and hand.

"Do you think we'd still be fake dating if we hadn't ended things?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Do you ever think about what it would have been like if we really dated?" she asked quietly, feeling bold in the dark.

"I'm not sure that ever would have happened," he said. "We weren't really friends before."

"No, but we knew each other." She turned her head to look in his direction even though she couldn't see him. "You don't think we would have ever tried to date?"

"I'm not your type, Claire," he said dejectedly. "That's been hashed out already."

"Why are you getting mad at me?"

"I'm not," he defended. "It's just we talked about this." He moved his hand and she could hear him running his hands over his facial hair. "It's not like it's a happy topic."

"We're just talking," she said softly.

"About how I'm not good enough for you," he finished in annoyance.

She paused, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Was that what this was all about? "I never said you weren't good enough for me."

"I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry. Let's just sleep."

"Okay," she said.

 _No!_ She didn't want to sleep, she wanted to talk to him. She didn't feel that way at all! Of course that was his problem, though, she realized. In the moments of silence that stretched before them, she thought back on their fake time together and all the little moments that she could remember him saying something that corroborated this new realization. He'd made a comment towards the beginning that Daniel wouldn't like her with "a guy like him." He had pointed out that she usually dated the "successful businessman type" on a number of occasions and made it clear that he didn't fall into that category.

But none of those things had ever meant he wasn't good enough for her. Not to her, anyway. They were different, and, no, he wasn't her usual type, but so what?

She remembered Lisa gossiping in the bathroom about how Claire walks around like she'd better than everyone else...was that where this was coming from? Did he think that was how _she_ felt?

It _wasn't!_ For God's sake, she had ended their fake relationship because she thought he was _too perfect!_ She had been overwhelmed by his affection and care. How could he possibly think she thought that way? How could she tell him otherwise?

"What happened to the Owen I first started fake dating?" she wondered aloud. "The Owen that used to brag about what a catch he was and how I'd be lucky to have him? Where'd that guy go?"

"That guy's kind of an ass," he said, chuckling a little.

"I liked him," Claire said softly. "He was pretty good to me those months we were together."

"Fake together," he corrected quickly. She remembered a time when he would get mad at _her_ for constantly making that same correction. She was beginning to realize how annoying it really was.

"Still," she whispered stubbornly.

She rolled onto her side, facing him, and placed her hand on his bare shoulder, then traced faint patterns with the tips of her fingers. She moved along his shoulder to his clavicle when she heard him sigh contently. She maneuvered herself slightly closer and ran her fingers to the other side of his chest.

Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, the moon outside providing just enough light through the curtains. His eyes were closed and his head was angled in her direction.

He really was a great man. She knew this. She'd known it for a long time. It was hard for her to think that maybe _he_ couldn't see it, because, as she pointed out, at the start of all this he'd been telling her as much.

She moved closer still, her body now just barley touching his. She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss to his deltoid. When he didn't respond, her fingers ran a little faster across his skin and in a broader territory of flesh. She left another kiss on his shoulder and another.

"Claire," he whispered. Was it a warning? Was it a plea? Either to stop or continue?

She shifted again raising herself high enough to kiss his chest. "I don't think you're not good enough for me," she breathed. She kissed his clavicle and neck, working her way up to his jaw line. And finally he turned his face into hers and found her lips with his.

She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as he rolled onto his side and his arm wrapped around her waist. This was different - this was _far_ different from anything they'd done before. She held her hand against the back of his head, desperate to keep him from pulling away from her. She could feel his fingers on the inside of the Navy shirt she was wearing, along her lower back. His hand was splayed across her skin, warming her and pressing her into him.

She wanted him closer. She wanted to be wrapped around each other. She hadn't felt anything this thrilling in a long time. She wrapped her leg around his and his hand came down to her thigh, lifting it higher on his hip as he leaned over her. His mouth left hers and ran along her jaw and neck. She kept her hands on the back of his neck and head. She lifted her chest into his as his mouth continued to find sweet spots around her neck and ear. His hand ran up her hip to her waist, lifting the shirt along with it. She could feel his growing erection between her legs and rolled her hips against it.

She heard him release a throaty moan before he shifted, leaning his weight onto his elbow. But that was apparently a bad move because he no sooner hissed in pain and rolled off of her.

"What?" she asked frantically. He had a hand pressed against the bandages on his chest. "Did you rip your stitches?"

"No," he replied, breathing heavily. "No, I think I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" she asked, touching his bandages in a few different spots, trying to feel for blood.

"I'm ok," he repeated. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. He kissed her and tried to deepen it but she pulled back.

"Maybe we should just sleep," she suggested. "I don't want to be the cause of having to rush you back to the Med Bay."

"I'm completely fine with you being the cause," he promised. "In fact, if it's going to happen, I'd prefer you be the cause."

She laughed lightly and laid back down next to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she turned into him.

"Seriously, that's the best way to rip stitches," he continued.

"It's not going to happen," she said with some humor. "You're not allowed to get hurt again, remember?"

"I'm hurt," he insisted. "I'm hurt right now and I can only think of one thing that will make it better."

She smiled and reached up, pressing her lips to his. "Better?"

"That helped a little, but I was thinking something a little more...acrobatic."

She snorted and rested her head back down on his shoulder. "Just dream about it."

After a minute of silence he raised his hand and ran his fingers through her hair. He leaned over to place a kiss on her head and whispered a soft "Goodnight."

She could still feel her heart pounding against her ribs. If he hadn't been injured, she'd have let things go further, she knew. It made her feel buzzed. She'd been so relaxed, she thought, since their fake breakup. She'd been at peace with the decision. Only now, after their frenzied kisses and desperate touches was she thinking that maybe that numbness wasn't such a good feeling after all.

He continued weaving his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep.

...

In the morning, Claire left before Owen woke up. She decided she should try to go into work that morning, having taken almost an entire week off. She smiled down at Owen's sleeping form and kissed his cheek before leaving. He hadn't even stirred. She had thought about leaving a note for him but couldn't think of anything to say. What was the social etiquette for leaving a note to your fake ex boyfriend that you nearly had sex with the night before?

She expected him to call or text her when he woke up but he never did. She thought about calling him that night when she got back to her apartment but the nagging thought that maybe he regretted what had transpired between them kept her from picking up her phone.

* * *

 **Drama, drama, drama. These kids, I tell ya. I know this whole insecure, second guessing, self-deprecating crap has been done and done before, but whatever. I did it. Deal with it. This ending paved the way for the beginning of Chapter 16 which was enormously fun to write so I refused to change it.**

 **But side note/question - Does anyone else go through this when writing? I'm in love with this story but I also sort of hate it and wished I had waited to post it so I could have fleshed it out a little more. Just curious.**

 **Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks for your support, everyone! You're all seriously awesome readers!**

 **This chapter was only quickly proofread and updated so there might be some grammatical/spelling errors that I didn't catch. I'm apologizing ahead of time. =]**

* * *

 **How are you doing?**

Claire stared at the typed message on her phone for what felt like a lifetime before she finally sent it. It had been two days since their brief, but heated, and ultimately interrupted rendezvous in Owen's bed and neither one of them had made any attempt at communication up to that point. They didn't call. They didn't text. No emails or carrier pigeons. No smoke signals or whispered gossip he hoped would get back to her. Nothing. It was infuriating.

Her phone buzzed with his reply a few minutes later.

 **I'm fine.**

Two days and all she gets is an "I'm fine."

Still, two days wasn't terrible. They'd gone longer without talking before. But this was after something had happened between them. Something Real - capital R. And he hadn't reached out to her. She recognized communication was a two-way street and she hadn't tried to reach out to him up till then either so she knew she didn't have any real right to be upset about it.

But just because, logically, she knew she shouldn't be mad at him didn't mean that, irrationally, she wasn't.

 **Good** , she sent back. **I hope you're healing well.**

 **I am.**

She wanted to scream.

...

 **Have your stitches been removed yet?** she texted him a week and a half later. She'd given him ten days to initiate contact with her and he hadn't so she finally caved.

She had a few theories on why the communication was so sparse between them: He regretted what had happened between them - which was her initial assumption but, to be fair, didn't make a whole lot of sense to her given that she _knew_ he felt something for her; He was embarrassed - again, that didn't seem likely given his show-off nature; He thought _she_ regretted it - which, yes, she had left without saying but she had initiated the kissing and she wrapped her leg around him and she was practically begging for the erection she had felt against her.

God, _she_ was embarrassed.

 **They come out tomorrow** , he texted back.

 **That's great. Do you feel like you're back to normal now? Sleeping ok?**

 **Yes. I'm fine.**

 _Oh, good_ , she thought. _So happy your fucking fine_.

 **That's great** , she repeated.

...

"Hey, Claire!" Mark called down the hall as she was making her way back to her office.

She had a small paper bag in hand - a chocolate chip cookie. She'd caved and bought one from the sweets shop after she ate a perfectly healthy lunch consisting of a light salad and grilled chicken. She was stressed, she bargained with herself. She deserved a damn cookie.

"Hi," she greeted as he made his way to her.

"Hey," he said again. His smile came easy as he stood before her. His dimples were truly something to be admired, she thought. "I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me on Friday?" His smile remained in place. Never fading. He was perfectly confident. So self assured.

She rubbed her forehead under her bangs and hid her grimace as best she could. She couldn't start something with Mark. Not now. Not after the Something Real with Owen. She didn't know where she and Owen stood but she knew that saying yes to Mark would put an end to whatever _could have been_. And she wasn't sure she was ready for that yet.

"I don't think now is a great time for me," she said.

"It's okay," Mark said kindly. His smile had turned more patient than optimistic. "I get it. Owen's not completely out of the picture, is he?"

She opened her mouth to deny it, but didn't know what to say because, really, it was true.

"Claire, I like you a lot," he said softly. "I think you and I could be really happy together. I think I could make you happy. I know Owen's a great guy and the two of you had a lot of fun with each other but you broke up for a reason. Something must have happened to make you guys think you weren't working." He stared at her almost like he was expecting her to confirm what he'd said. She held her tongue. "All I'm asking for is a chance. Just one date," he said. "Let me take you out and we'll talk and get to know each other better. Because I think once you really get to know me, you'll see what I'm seeing. We'd be good together."

Claire was silent for a moment, surprised by Mark's boldness and him calling her out. And it wasn't until that moment, when she was pushed to make a decision - see where things go with Owen, if anywhere at all, or take a safe chance with Mark and quite possibly be with someone who is not only her type, but funny and sweet and who obviously cares about her - that she realized what she really wanted in her life.

...

Claire and Owen were scheduled to attend the same meeting. It would be the first time she would see him, and quite possibly talk to him, verbally, since they had kissed almost a month before.

She decided to wear her green skirt to the meeting as a nice little _fuck you_ to him. She made sure to be exactly on time so as to increase the chance that he would already be in the conference room and would get to watch her enter. It worked out perfectly except that for the fact that she noticed he looked away almost immediately after seeing her.

The meeting, run by a member of the public relations division, informed the small group in attendance of an official visit of some high ranking Naval personnel in the coming month. They were mainly coming to see how the progress with InGen's raptor program was going, but Masrani Global had offered a VIP tour of the entire park which Owen was going to guide, much to his apparent chagrin.

They went over the security protocols they would be using during the visit and a brief itinerary. Then they were all dismissed and Owen quickly left the room. Claire usually stayed after meetings were adjourned to mingle and whatnot, but she decided to follow him instead, wanting to get the damn confrontation over with.

She didn't feel like shouting his name through the halls, figuring she could catch up with him around the elevators. But he took a wrong turn, she noticed, down a different hallway. She tried to remember if there were emergency stairs that he might be headed towards. She turned down the same hall and jumped in surprise as he was suddenly right in front of her, standing squarely in the hall with his thumbs hooked on his belt and a stern expression on his face.

"Why are you following me?" he asked unkindly.

"I-" she sputtered, still in shock. "I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About..." she trailed off. He was mad, that was easy enough to see. It made her temper flare all the more. "About how you've decided, _without me_ , that we shouldn't talk anymore."

"I don't have time for this," he deflected as he turned back around continued on his swift way.

"Hey!" she called after him, annoyed that he would walk away from her, and rushed to catch up him. "Why haven't you called me?"

"You haven't called me either," he argued, still not stopping.

He found a door towards the end of the hall with a stairwell sign next to it and the word EXIT illuminated in red above.

"Will an alarm go off if I go through this door?" he asked a woman sitting in a cubicle nearby.

"Yes," Claire said loudly but the woman was already shaking her head no. Owen gave her an exasperated look at her lie before shoving the door open.

She grumbled incoherently and followed him. He was already halfway down to the next floor when she entered the stairwell.

"Don't follow me," he warned. "You'll break your ankle in those shoes."

"You seriously underestimate me sometimes," she muttered as she hurried down the steps with little difficulty. She'd worn heels almost every day for the last seven years. She'd seen her fair share of staircases.

"Why won't you talk to me?" she asked, getting breathless as she tried to keep up with his pace. It had nothing to do with the heels and everything to do with her serious lack of physical endurance. She should really start jogging.

He didn't answer and instead started skipping the last couple steps of every floor, jumping directly onto the platform.

"It's been a month, Owen," she huffed. He still didn't slow down and he was almost to the last floor. "Mark asked me out!" she shouted, hoping that would get his attention.

It worked. He halted suddenly which allowed her the opportunity to slow down and catch her breath. Slowly, he turned back to her and smiled, tight-lipped.

"That's great, Claire," he said shortly. "Congratulations."

She stopped her descent down the stairs when she was two steps above him and sighed. "What the hell happened with us, Owen?"

He let out a soft, vicious laugh and looked anywhere but her face.

"Come on," she urged impatiently. "Just talk to me."

"You want to know what happened?" he asked quickly, looking back to her and raising his voice marginally. "You kissed me. And then, in the morning, I wake up alone. You didn't leave a note, you didn't tell me you were leaving. You just left."

"I went to work," she said defensively. "If you recall, I had missed a few days making sure you didn't bleed out in your sleep."

"It wasn't that bad," he said flippantly.

"You almost _died!_ " she cried.

"I was _fine!_ " he said. "Is that why you kissed me?" he asked incredulously. "Because you thought I had nearly died? Were you feeling guilty about something? Was it a pity kiss?"

"Oh, _my God_ ," she moaned. "Just stop. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're right! I don't," he admitted. "For the life of me, I can't figure out why you would do that."

"Maybe because I wanted to?" she suggested angrily.

"If you wanted it, you wouldn't have left without saying anything. You would've called or done _something_ , Claire!"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I was nervous or embarrassed?" she asked. "Maybe I needed you to give me some reassurance that it was okay! Maybe I needed you to be the one that called first."

"That's not how this works!" he yelled.

" _Not how it works?_ " she asked. "What does that even mean? There's not a manual, Owen. There's no right or wrong way."

"Just admit that you regret it," he insisted. "That's what happened. I _know_ that's what happened. You kissed me, freaked out, and left hoping we could just pretend it never happened."

"You don't know me that well," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, actually, I do," he replied confidently.

"Fine! I regret it," she said loudly.

"Thank you! I'm just looking for a little honesty, here," he said haughtily.

" _Honesty?_ " she asked. "Yeah, Owen, let's talk about honesty." She took a step down so she only stood one stair above him. Now she was only slightly above eye level with him. "You _promised_ me that you'd let me know if lines got crossed." She shoved a manicured finger into his chest. "You should have told me that things had changed for you. I shouldn't have to find out from Barry."

She watched as his nostrils flared slightly in his frustration and his jaw clenched. He didn't say anything.

"I regret kissing you because it's clearly screwed up whatever friendship we had," she declared firmly.

He remained silently fuming before her. She stared at him expectantly.

"Nothing to say?" she finally prompted.

"We should just pretend it didn't happen," he said tightly.

"Fine," she agreed and sighed. "If that's what you want."

"It's not what _I_ want, Claire!" he groaned. "Jesus Christ." He ran his hands through his short hair in aggravation.

"Why would it be what _I_ want?" she countered.

"So that you can be with Givens!" he shouted. "So that we can go back to normal and you can move on! No more feeling guilty. No more regret."

She stared at him in wild disbelief.

"Dear _God!_ " she cried out, raising both arms and craning her head back to stare at the heavens. She started chuckling, because honestly, what the hell was happening? "Why do I even date men?" she wondered aloud. She turned around and stomped her say back up the stairwell. "I should just become a lesbian. Or better yet - asexual. That way, I wouldn't ever have to deal with this kind of _bull shit_ again!" ." She'd made it halfway up the second flight of stairs and leaned over the railing to see Owen still standing there, looking up at her. "And for the record, I said no to Mark, because, believe it or not, I actually _wanted_ something to happen between you and me!"

She continued her slow climb. Owen didn't call out or say anything so she wasn't looking back at him when he smirked and turned back to trek down the remaining steps.

...

Zara handed Claire the thick file containing the geneticists' reports from InGen about the season's coming hatchlings as they walked through the halls back in the direction of Claire's office.

"Page fourteen looked a bit odd," Zara commented.

Claire opened the file to the page she referred to. " _Project Diamond."_ she read, scrunching her nose in disgust. "Do we have Bond villains working at InGen now?"

Zara smiled. "I guess they've found new DNA to replicate?"

Claire continued reading. " _'This will be our crown jewel. DNA strands and materials used in creation are classified.'_ " She snapped the folder shut. "Lovely."

"Oh, um, Miss Dearing," Zara said quietly.

Claire noticed her looking uncomfortably at something in front of them and turned her gaze to see what it was.

Owen. Walking towards them, slowly - almost cautiously.

"Put this on my desk, please," she said, handing the file back to her assistant as she and Owen met in the hall.

She folded her hands tightly in front of her and stood up straighter, looking all the prim and proper that she normally did.

"No green skirt today," he observed. His voice was low and while his words might have normally caused a smile and an eye roll, he looked far too wary for any humor to be in his tone.

"I burned it," she lied flatly.

He nodded once. "That's too bad."

They stood in silence for a few seconds and when it didn't look like he was going to say anything she sighed. "Was there something you needed, Mr. Grady?"

A small smirk formed on his lips. "No, I'm fine."

"Then if you'll excuse me," she said with a curt, dismissive nod.

She walked around him but he turned and caught her arm before she was out of reach.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"So you _do_ need something?" she asked with brows raised.

"I just want to talk, Claire," he said softly.

She glanced around the mostly empty hall. She shrugged her arm out of his grasp and walked back to her office. She knew he was following her.

Zara watched as they approached with a look mixed with curiosity and concern. Claire didn't say anything to her as she stepped into her office. Owen followed after her and shut the door.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, quietly.

Claire leaned back against the front of her desk and crossed her arms, waiting silently for him to continue.

"I shouldn't have flipped out on you like a did last week," he said. "I guess I was just...annoyed...that we went so long without talking about what had happened."

"We still haven't really talked about it," she said.

"We've said enough," he replied.

He sighed and walked to stand behind one of the chairs in front of her desk. He leaned forward and gripped the back tightly with both hands. "I really came by here to talk about something else."

"What's that?" she asked, hiding the disappointment in her voice.

"The Navy isn't just coming here to check up on the raptors," he told her. "I got a call from a buddy of mine trying to give me a heads up. They want to pull me out."

" _What?_ " she asked, shocked.

"Temporarily, I think," he added quickly. "My buddy thinks it has something to do with an old mission I ran years ago." He shrugged. "I really don't know much, but that what he seems to think is going on."

"Can they do that?" she asked.

Owen nodded. "Sure. They'll probably ask me if I'm okay with it - try to make it look like my decision. But I'm theirs for another nine months." He stood and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. "You know if I wanted to commit suicide, or give a self-inflicted wound, say, I can be charged with destruction of U.S. property? They actually _own_ me."

"Why'd you ever join, again?" she asked sarcastically.

"I heard chicks dig the uniform," he said with a lopsided smile.

She groaned. "Please don't ever use the word 'chicks' again."

"Can't say chicks, can't call you babe... Is there anything you'll let me do?"

"I let you keep your beard."

"It's more scruff than beard," he said, running his hand over his cheek.

She smiled and stood up straighter. "So when would you be leaving?"

"I don't know. It might not even happen, you know. I just thought I should let you know. Also, I was hoping that if I do go, you could make sure Barry stays in charge of the raptors. I don't want Hoskins - the InGen guy - to come in and try to take over."

"Well, the raptors are InGen's property," she said. "I'm not sure what I would be able to do if they decide to do something with them."

Owen scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know. I just figured I'd ask. I trust you to fight my battles for me while I'm gone."

She smiled softly. "So, you don't know if what you'll be doing will be dangerous?" She took a small step forward.

"No clue. I don't think they'd pull me out just to put a target on my back, though," he said doubtfully.

"And no idea how long they might keep you?"

He shook his head then heaved a sighed. "It might be nothing," he said. "My buddy could be all wrong. I could be here for the next ten years. There's no way to know for sure just yet."

"You'll let me know, though. Right? When you find out, you'll call me?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm not sure what you'll need me to do as far as my work here." He moved around the chair and she took another step towards him. "Should I be talking to someone else about this? Do I need to...I don't know...sign some form or something?"

She shook her head. "I can take care of everything," she said quietly. "Just let me know."

"Okay," he said with another lopsided grin.

They were closer now and she desperately wanted to hug him, to feel his arms around her again. She gazed up at him.

"I don't want to not be talking to you," she whispered. "It's more fun to be your friend when you're actually around."

"Yeah," he chuckled. He lifted his hand up to her arm, just below her shoulder. His thumb moved in a slow pattern against her skin. "I've missed hanging out with you, too."

"I'm sorry I didn't call or leave a note-"

"It's fine, Claire," he assured her quickly.

"No, it's not," she denied. "I didn't mean-"

There was a knock on her office door which was opened not a second later.

"Hey, where'd Zara go? Oh!" Mark said as he entered her office. "Owen, hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine," Owen said. He turned and took a side step away from Claire. "How have you been?"

The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

"Zara's not as her desk?" Claire asked, confused.

Mark shook his head. "No. I came by to see if you were free for lunch. I need to talk to you about this quarter's numbers," he said to her. He glanced at Owen. "Or were you two going to grab a bite?"

"No," Owen answered. "I've got to get back to the paddock. The vet is coming by there to take a look at the girls."

"Is Delta still having problems?" Claire asked.

"She acts up sometimes, but it's time for their quarterly visit so that's what's happening today," Owen answered.

"Miss Dearing," Zara called as she entered her office. "I have a package for you."

"Thank you," she said, taking the box. She looked to Mark. "You wanted to have lunch?" she asked him. He nodded. "I'll be out for lunch, Zara," she called to her assistant who was leaving her office. She glanced down at the heavy cardboard box in her arms. "Oh," she said. She glanced up at Owen and gave a nervous chuckle.

"What?" he asked curiously.

"It's something I got for you," she said.

"For me?"

"Well, really it's for me but I thought you'd like it," she said, turning around and placing the box on her desk.

She looked around her desk for something to cut the box open. Owen came up next to her with a pocket knife and sliced the packing tape. After shifting through the packing peanuts and opening the garment box inside, Claire lifted the dark brown jacket made of distressed, worn leather.

"Remember talking about taking me for a ride on your bike?" she asked him, smiling shyly. She slipped her arms into the leather jacket. "I ordered this shortly after my birthday but at first, they sent the wrong size, so I sent it back. You still hadn't fixed your bike," she said. The fuses he needed had been back ordered for almost a month, taking that much longer to get in.

The jacket hugged her shoulders comfortably. She stretched her arms out in front of her to test the length of the sleeves. It wasn't her usual style - leather, riding jacket didn't really go with Herve Ledger - but she liked it all the same. She'd learned that sometimes different was good. She looked up at Owen who was fighting a smile.

"What?" she asked curiously, smiling a little herself. "What do you think?"

He nodded, his smile getting harder to hide. "It looks good."

Claire glanced over at Mark who was watching his feet with a smirk, then looked back to Owen.

"What?" she asked again as he started chuckling. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"It's nothing," he said. "You're just...something else, Miss Dearing."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm just surprised you would get yourself something like this," he explained, still grinning. "Especially for the _one time_ you would've ridden the bike."

She shrugged and examined the material of the sleeves. "Maybe I would have liked it and wanted to ride it more." She looked back up at him with a coy smile. "I'm not sure when I'll wear it now that we aren't together anymore."

"I could still take you for a ride," he said. He shuffled a little closer to her and grabbed the end of the jacket, fastening the zipper for her. "Costa Rica might be a little hot for this." He zipped it up half way.

"Maybe I should just return it, then," she mused.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It looks good on you. You should keep it."

Claire smiled and looked back at Mark. He was watching the pair of them and smiled when he noticed he had her attention.

"You look like you're ready to go kick some ass now," he said, chuckling.

"Yes, she does," Owen agreed.

Claire stepped back from Owen and unzipped the jacket to take it off. "Where would you like to go eat?" she asked Mark as she hung the leather jacket over the back of one of the chairs.

"We could just walk down Main and see what's not busy," he suggested.

"I should get going," Owen said. "Enjoy your lunch." He touched Claire's arm, briefly, and left with a quick wave to Mark.

...

"Fucking cameras," Owen sighed as he stepped up next Claire. They stood on the docks waiting for the incoming ferry to arrive with the Naval officers. There were two photographers there to capture their arrival for publicity's sake - the PR department had insisted on it.

Claire turned to Owen with a smirk that quickly fell away. "Holy-" she quickly covered her mouth with her hand to stifle any expletives that wanted to slip out.

Zara, standing on Claire's other side, turned to see what the commotion was all about. "Oh, my _God_ ," she said. "Your face!"

"His face?" Claire exclaimed. "Look at what he's wearing!"

A clean shaven Owen was standing before them in his service dress uniform. Various metals, ribbons, and badges adorned his jacket. She had no idea what any of them meant but it all certainly looked impressive.

"Quit your drooling, ladies," he grumbled. "This thing is frickin' hot." He grabbed at his collar, trying to loosen the fitted material from his neck without success.

"Yes. It is," Claire agreed to the statement with an entirely different meaning.

Zara snorted and Owen smiled cheekily. She reached up her hands and rubbed at the smooth skin of his cheeks.

"You look so different," she said in wonderment. "It's like I've never seen your real face before."

"Nice outfit, Grady," Zara said with a teasing smile. "Who knew you could look so respectable?"

"This is amazing," Claire said, still in awe.

Her hands fell to his shoulders, she then ran her fingers over the ornaments affixed to his chest. She reached back up to his shoulders and let her hands slide down his arms to his wrists. She grabbed one of his hands and let it rest, palm up, in hers.

"Oh my God," she said, turning to Zara. "His hands are _clean_."

"Good God, man," Zara mocked. "Have you been brainwashed in the last twenty-four hours?"

"Laugh all you want," he said smiling. "But, Claire can't take her hands off me."

Claire shook her head and smiled. She dropped his hand and placed hers on either side of his waist. "I really can't," she laughed. "Why did you never wear this when we were together?"

"Is this doing something for you?" he asked flirtatiously. "We can ditch this and head back to my bungalow if you want."

"You just want to get out of the tour," she said knowingly.

"There they are," Zara said, pulling their attention away from each other.

The ferry boat was still a small dot on the vast sea but Claire knew it wouldn't be that way for long. The massive ferry pulled impressive speeds when the water was flat like it was that day.

"Maybe you could take me to dinner tonight," she suggested coyly.

"I don't know how Mark would take that," he said quietly.

His comment confused her. She had told him she said no to Mark, didn't she? Perhaps he thought that her lunch with the CFO was more than just a meeting with food?

She turned her face towards him and smirked. "Mark doesn't have that uniform."

"Or my rugged charm," he added.

"Oh, he's got charm," she assured him, her tone playful. "It's a little more sophisticated and proper compared to yours."

"More holding out your chair and laying down his coat in a puddle kind of thing?"

"Exactly."

"Whereas mines a little more 'Me, Tarzan. You, Jane.'"

"I was going to say yours was a bit more... _knee-weakening,_ " she said flirtatiously.

"You sure know how to make a man feel good about himself," he muttered. She could see him smiling out of the corner of her eye as she watched the ferry come ever closer.

"That's a nice thing to hear," she said. Especially considering not that long ago she was worried she had made him feel like he wasn't good enough for her.

They watched in silence as the boat docked.

"I think I'll be busy tonight," he said, leaning closer to her. "But maybe later this week we could meet for dinner?"

"Just like old times," she said, smiling at him. "Sure. Text me."

"Maybe I'll wear this uniform and you can wear your leather jacket," he suggested.

"You just want me groping you all night," she said.

"Yes, yes I do," he admitted plainly. "I'll grope you too if that makes you feel any better." She elbowed him in the side. "Or we can keep our hands to ourselves. That works too," he said with an over dramatic wheeze.

* * *

 **This chapter ended nicely, didn't it? I love Claire getting a leather jacket for herself as a surprise for Owen. It's like the first date version of buying lingerie for a guy.**

 **Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**So, I rewrote the next couple of chapters three times with different things happening. Each way meant a different progression of events. I basically wrote my own AU's for my own AU... Jurassic Inception. Ultimately, I liked this direction the best so here you are.**

* * *

 **They're telling me I'll be leaving for two months.**

Claire stared at her phone in numb surprise as she read Owen's text.

 **When?** she finally asked when her senses came back to her.

 **Two days.**

 _Two days?_

Claire placed her phone down on her desk and then rested her elbows there as well. She held her head in her hands by her temples and breathed slowly.

She could feel her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. She felt nervous and shaky and she hated it. She was worried about him, she realized. She was worried something would happen to him. Something worse than a raptor nicking his chest.

What had happened to her? _How_ had this happened to her? Owen Grady, prior to the New Year's Eve party, leaving the island would not have caused her so much stress. She wouldn't have this horrible feeling in the bit of her stomach or a clenching in her chest.

She was going to _miss_ him. That's what this was, she realized. On top of fretting that something terrible might happen to him, she realized she was actually aching for him.

They'd been apart before. They've gone weeks and, most recently, an entire month without really speaking to each other but she always knew he was there. She knew she _could_ call him if she'd just swallowed her pride. She knew she _could_ see him if she ever felt desperate enough to go to the raptor paddock. But that wouldn't be the case now. Would he even be reachable? If something happened to the raptors, would she be able to let him know? If something happened _to him_ , would she ever find out?

 **So, Barry's getting a bunch of people together. Thinking we'll all go out tonight and have a few drinks before I go. I'm not going to be able to take you out this week. :/ Would you want to come out tonight with everybody?**

His long, somewhat rambling text made her smile, despite the sudden nervous frenzy she was in.

 **I'd love to** , she lied. She'd much rather go out with him without all his friends around, but she couldn't deny everyone else the chance to send him off. Although, selfishly, she wanted to.

 **Liar** , he said.

 **I'm not** , she falsely denied. **I want to see you before you leave.** That part was true at least.

 **I'd like to see you too. I'll text you the details when Barry gets it all figured out.**

 **Ok. Thanks.**

She put her phone back down and sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair.

She didn't know what she and Owen were to each other anymore. Just friends, she supposed, though it sometimes still felt like more. She'd told him she wanted something to happen between them, hadn't she? Or was that not made clear to him? She'd apologized for not leaving a note or not calling or not waking him up after they'd had their brief moment together in his bed. What was left? Where were things supposed to go from there?

She'd flirted with him on the docks just the other day. She'd suggested they go out this week. He'd agreed but now was saying that he couldn't take her out since he was leaving so soon.

So where did that leave them?

She was giving herself a headache. She needed to calm down. She needed food. She looked at the clock on her computer and saw it was past her normal lunchtime and decided to go grab something. Maybe eating would soothe what felt like a growing ulcer in her stomach.

...

That evening, Claire arrived at the bar Owen had told her to go to and worked her way around the other patrons, looking for Owen or someone she recognized. She'd dressed up a little. She'd been conflicted over how casual she should appear, not wanting to seem like she was overdoing it. She wanted to look nice though. She wanted him to notice her - really notice her. Not in the way that a woman tries to get a man's attention by wearing revealing clothing in hopes that he's compliment her appearance. She already knew Owen was attracted to her. But she wanted him to recognize that she was putting in an effort - that she _wanted_ something to happen between them. She hoped the pale blue, pleated chiffon skirt and plain white blouse she wore sent that message.

"Claire!" She spotted Amber just as she was calling out her name. She was waving Claire over to a section of the room that had been taken over by many of the park's employees.

Owen was nearby and turned as he heard her name being called.

"Hey!" he yelled out, a large goofy grin spreading across his face. She was pleased with his reaction to seeing her, but as she watched him stumble his way over to her, she realized he must have already had a few drinks. "You made it!" he said in surprise.

"I told you I wanted to come see you," she said with a small smile.

"Good. Good," he said, nodding and looking a little more serious. "I'm glad you're here."

She laughed quietly as she watched his serious expression slowly morph back into his silly smile.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, putting a hand on his arm, unnecessarily steadying him. He really wasn't that bad yet.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," he said easily. "Other than the fact that I'm leaving for God knows where the day after tomorrow and Barry made me do two shots of Fireball when we got here - I'm great!"

She eyed the glass in his hand. "What are you drinking now?"

"Rum and Coke," he said, taking a quick sip. "You need a drink!" he said suddenly, as if just noticing she didn't have a glass of her own. "I'll get you a drink. Come on." He grabbed her hand and lead her to the bar. Claire waved shyly at Amber as they passed her.

"What do you want? Wine?" he asked as he waved for the bartender's attention.

"Sure," she said. "Actually," she began, thinking better of it, "I'll just take a water."

Owen pulled a face. "You don't want a drink?"

"No, just a water."

"What's wrong?" he asked, confused.

She laughed. "Just because I don't want to drink means that something is wrong?"

"It's my going away party," he explained. "I want you to enjoy yourself."

She chewed her cheek for a moment before answering. "I will enjoy myself. All I cared about tonight was seeing you. I don't need alcohol to see you."

One side of his mouth twitched upward. "Alright. But at least get a soda, or something. Get some sugar in you."

"Sodas are so bad for you," she said, shaking her head. "Do you know how much sugar is in one can of soda? It's disgusting."

"Coke," he told the bartender, pointing to Claire. She slapped the back of her hand lightly against his chest. "Live a little," he told her, smiling. "One won't kill you."

She rolled her eyes, fighting the infectious smile. Looking back at him he saw her eyeing her outfit, smirking.

"What?" she asked nervously.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Tell me," she insisted.

He smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they waited for the bartender to bring her soda. "You're beautiful." He said it low, in her ear, and it almost made her shiver.

"I've always liked when you called me that," she mused softly, leaning into him.

"To be far, I think you'd like hearing it from anyone," he said as he took another quick sip of his drink.

"No, I don't think so. There's something very... _hm_." She regarded him as she tried to think of the right word. She'd turned, still under his arm, to look at him a bit more directly. "There's just something about Owen Grady, raptor-trainer and Navy SEAL, calling me beautiful," she finally said with a coy smile. She raised a hard to smooth down the front of his shirt over his chest. "It's a bit... _thrilling_."

Owen was watching her carefully, his small smile still in place. He looked like he was about to say something when the bartender finally decided to make an appearance.

"On the house, Miss Dearing," he said as he placed the drink on the bar top in front of them.

"Thank you," she said kindly. The twenty-three cents it costs was hardly something to be flattered by, though.

"Hey, Owen!" someone called to him, pulling his attention away from her. "Get over here!"

"I'll come find you in a little while," he told her. He pointed to the soda in her hand. "Enjoy that disgusting amount of sugar."

Claire mingled with the employees, enjoying herself more than she thought she would have. Everyone was nice to her - and it didn't seem like the overly fake sort of nice that one would do with his or her boss. She thought maybe it was her relaxed attire, the drink in her hand which she knew people probably assumed was alcoholic, and the casual atmosphere of the bar. Then she thought that maybe it was Owen. Maybe her having (fake) dated him had given her some sort of _street cred_ with the others.

"So, how have you been?" Amber asked her as she got her to sit at a small high top table.

"I've been well," Claire answered kindly. "What about you?"

"Good. Did you notice Lisa's not here?" she said conspiratorially, moving on quickly.

"I hadn't actually," Claire fibbed. She had wondered, before she got there that evening, if Owen's ex would be present. After a quick pass through the crowd, she hadn't seen her.

"She didn't want to come," Amber said, taking a sip of her beer. "Barry invited her, because, you know, of her history with Owen, but she said she didn't want to celebrate him leaving and getting himself killed. Can you believe that? What a horrible thing to say."

Claire nodded numbly. Her fears matched Lisa's apparently.

"I'm having lunch with her tomorrow and I'm going to call her out on it," Amber told her. "There are some things you just don't say, you know?"

Claire agreed and took a distracted sip of her drink. She'd been sipping it slowly and she'd already been there so long that the ice had long ago melted, making it taste worse if that was possible.

"So, what's new with you?" Amber asked. "I haven't seen you since The Great Breakup of July."

Claire smiled. "The Great Breakup?"

Amber nodded, smiling. "That's what Barry and I call it. Owen was a mess - snapping at everyone, always so pissed off. He was mad while the rest of us were crying our eyes out."

"Why would you be crying?" she asked curiously, a cautious smile on her lips.

"Because you two were _adorable_ together," she explained. "Owen was so smitten. It was cute to see that. He's usually so smooth and macho with his girlfriends."

"He was pretty smooth with me," Claire admitted.

"Yeah, but it was different. It's hard to explain exactly what it was," she said. "He kept it quiet with you. It was like he wanted to keep you for himself."

Claire thought over her words silently, running her fingers across her glass, collecting the last drops of condensation.

"Are you seeing anyone now?" Amber asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Claire shook her head. "No. This guy did ask me out recently but..."

"But what?"

Claire smiled shyly. "I don't know. I'm not ready, yet, I guess."

There was a raucous laughter in a booth nearby. Both women looked over to see Owen, Barry, and a few other guys laughing and pounding their fists on the table. One guy at the table appeared to be soaked, an empty beer mug sat in front of him.

Claire looked back to see Amber smiling sadly at her. "You know he's not over you either," she said. "If you wanted start something with him again, I'm sure he'd say yes."

Claire shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. So how's work been for you?" she asked, wanting the conversation to move on to a different topic.

"It's been good," she answered, smiling knowingly at Claire's non sequitur. "Speaking of which," - she checked her watch - "I should probably get going. My shift starts at five tomorrow morning."

Claire gave her a sympathetic wince as Amber slid out of her chair.

"Yeah, if you could do something about that, I'd really appreciate it," she joked. "I'm not a morning person at all."

"I'll see what I can do," Claire laughed.

"Thanks. I'd be happy to work the eleven to three shift every day." Claire knew there was no such shift available. "That's really when I'm at my prime, I think."

"Got it," she said, still chuckling. "See you later."

Claire watched as Amber sauntered over to Owen's booth and patted Barry on the back, saying something to him. Owen stood from the bench and gave her a hug. Claire noticed him try to pull back after a moment but Amber had stopped him, her arms locked around his shoulders and speaking into his ear.

Owen nodded and smiled kindly before placing a swift kiss on Amber's forehead and saying goodbye. Claire watched Owen's eyes roam the room quickly until they landed on hers. He turned back to say something to Barry.

A lot of people had already left. The bar was still crowded with the park's guests, but many of the employees had turned in for the night, having early shifts in the morning, like Amber. A few others were heading to different bars.

"Owen shouldn't drive," Barry said, suddenly by her side. "I drove him here so he doesn't have his bike, anyway. But just in case he asks you for a ride home, don't let him drive."

She nodded. "Okay, but why wouldn't you take him home?"

"Because he thinks you're prettier than me," he joked.

"Do you want me to take him home?" she asked slowly, smiling at his comment.

Barry shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I thought maybe you'd want to spend a little more time with him before he leaves."

"But he's drunk," she pointed out.

"He's only half drunk," he said. She had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

"I'll take him," she said. It seemed like that was what he was trying to get her to say.

"Excellent. I think he's ready to go."

Claire walked over to the booth where Owen was still sitting.

"Hey, sugar!" he said much too loud as she approached.

"Hi," she said softly. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he wrapped one of his hands around her leg. She jumped at the contact. "Uh, Barry asked if I would drive you home."

"He did?" he asked confused, glancing around the bar. His thumb was rubbing an absent-minded pattern on the back of her knee. "He's sick of me."

"Maybe a little," she agreed humorously. "Are you ready to go now?"

"Hon, you don't have to," he said. "I can find a ride. Or I'll walk. I'll manage."

"I don't mind," she said, smiling. She rubbed a quick circle on his back.

He gave her a brilliant smile. "God, you're beautiful. She's beautiful, isn't she?" he asked the other men at the table. Only a two nodded half-heartedly, not really paying attention to them. Owen looked back to her. "See?" he asked as if they'd all given a rousing applause in agreement.

"Sure, let's go," he said then. He put both hands on the table and pushed himself up. He wasn't very steady on his feet at first but was able to walk with increasing coordination as they continued on to the exit.

"Where's your car, woman?" he asked in a jokingly rude manor.

"Just over here, _sir_ ," she said flatly. He laughed anyway as he followed her to the back lot behind the bar.

He slammed her car door shut and let out a long exhale as he sat in the passenger seat.

"Are you okay?" she asked. She didn't want him to be sick in her car.

He smiled lazily at her. "'Course I am, babe."

She bit her cheek at his continued use of pet names and started the car. They drove in relative silence until they reached the end of the backstage lots and moved onto the back roads of the jungle.

"I miss you," he said suddenly. She glanced over and saw he was watching her, resting his head back against the seat. "I never should have let you break up with me. I should have kidnapped you or something."

She snorted. "That's not creepy at all," she said sarcastically.

He smiled. "But really. I miss you."

"I miss you too," she admitted quietly. "And I'm going to miss you a lot while you're gone." That ache she had felt earlier that day was back and screaming in her chest.

He groaned. "I don't want to go. I can't believe they're doing this. You know, if they'd done what I had suggested in the first place, I wouldn't be going."

"I don't know what that means," she said, confused.

"I know," he sighed. "And you never will. SEAL missions are classified."

"I think you just like being able to say what you do is classified," she said, smirking.

"You're right," he admitted. "I do. Because it's wildly sexy, isn't it?"

"It is," she laughed then sighed. "It really is."

His face stretched into an even broader grin. "I like hearing you frustrated. It's nice to finally have you on my level."

"Have I been frustrating you?" she asked innocently.

"Unbelievably so," he said seriously.

"You can be very frustrating, too," she pointed out.

"With you, it's my mission to be frustrating. I've got to get your attention somehow."

"Well, it worked," she chuckled.

They lapsed into another silence as they continued through the rougher paths towards his bungalow. She parked her car under the tree in front of his trailer. She thought about cutting the engine, but she knew it would get hot fast in the Central American heat if they stayed inside the car to talk.

"It would suck to see you with Givens," he said quietly.

She looked over at him in surprise. He was giving the dashboard a determined look. She looked back at the steering wheel and traced the Mercedes logo with her finger.

"I told you I said no to him," she said.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah, but he'd be good for you."

"Maybe," she said.

"He's nice. He's your type."

"Maybe that's not my type anymore," she said. Her heart was beginning to race.

"He's a good guy. He's got a good job."

Claire sat silently, now watching him. Eventually he turned his head to look at her.

"I miss you," he said again, smiling softly.

"You've said that already," she said, smiling as well.

"I did?" She nodded. "Well, it's more than that."

"What does that mean?"

"I miss kissing you." He raised his hand up to her cheek and ran his thumb across her skin. He let it drop quickly. "Well, I'm drunk." They laughed together at his sudden proclamation. "No, I'm not. I'm just feeling it." He unbuckled his seatbelt. "What do you say? You want to come inside and take advantage of me a little bit?"

She smiled. "As appealing and as charming as that offer was," she said, "I think I'll pass. Maybe one day when you're a little more sober."

"Aw, come on Claire Bear."

Her eyes widen at the forbidden nickname and she tightened her jaw. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

"Oh," he said sadly. "Oh, no. Shit. _Shit. Shit!_ " he groaned, smacking his head with his palm. "Sorry. Shit, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said, recovering from the surprise. It wasn't as if that name opened up old, terrible wounds for her. She just hated the reminder of her father.

"No, it's not," he denied. "God, it's the fucking alcohol. Fucking Fireball. I should never drink that shit." He looked out the window of the car. "It pisses me off to think your dad left you."

"It was a long time ago," she said with a shrug he didn't see. Honestly, she was over it.

"Still, he fucking left. What an ass hole, you know? You don't deserve that shit. You don't deserve to be left. Only a fucking moron would leave you."

"Owen," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to break him out of his rant. "I hardly remember him. I grew up without him. He's nothing to me. It doesn't matter."

"I'd never leave you, you know that?"

She hesitated, smiling softly at his sudden admission. "You're leaving me in less than forty-eight hours."

"Yeah," he grumbled. He ran his hands over his face. "God, I drank too much. I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry."

He opened the car door and tumbled out. She unbuckled and got out as well.

"Owen," she called, making him stop on his way to his trailer and turn back to her.

He looked like he was deep in thought, or maybe upset about something. She walked slowly to stand in front of him and tentatively reached out. She hugged him and after a second or two, he hugged her back.

"Will I see you again before you leave?" she asked as they stood in their embrace.

"I'm not sure. Maybe you could come by the docks and say bye when we're leaving," he suggested.

"Yeah," she agreed, pulling away from him. "I'll be there."

"Good. Thanks for coming out tonight," he said. "I'm glad we got a hang out a little."

"Me too."

"I'm going to go sleep off the stupidity now." She laughed and nodded. "Drive safe."

She waited until he climbed the few wooden onto his porch to get back in her car. He opened his door and waved before disappearing inside.

* * *

 **Half-drunk Owen was fun to write. I figured he'd be flirty but also aware enough to not overdo it. He uses a lot of pet names when he's been drinking which was fun because it's been a while since he's been able to do that with Claire.**

 **Please review with your thoughts and reactions! Thanks a bunch, as always.**


	18. Chapter 18

**I couldn't wait to post the next bit! Enjoy!**

* * *

Claire pressed down harder on the gas pedal and her Mercedes accelerated easily over the rough path. She'd called Owen moments before to find out where he was. He told her he was at home, that he was alone, and not particularly busy at that moment, having just finished packing. He'd been given a sudden reprieve of tour guide duties for the evening so he could get ready for his departure the following day.

When she arrived at his bungalow, he was waiting on his makeshift porch with a beer bottle in hand. The clouds above them were dark, making it seem like the night had started early. It was hot and muggy and the recent rain and lack of sun made the dirt moist and cling to her heels as she stepped out of her car.

"You!" she yelled loudly, pointing a firm finger in his direction. "I need to talk to you."

She wobbled her way through the muddy land up to his porch and stomped up the steps. He was immediately defensive. She could tell from his body language. His back was straight, his shoulders tense. He took a sip of his beer without taking his eyes off her.

"We need to talk about this," she said firmly, standing before him with her hands on her hips.

"About what?" he asked, his voice was a bit gravelly and it made her stomach churn. She remembered his warm palm on the back of her knee the night before and had to fight her sudden blush.

That was why she was there - why she needed to speak with him so urgently. After the night before and the things he'd said, she had hardly slept. And her mind had been particularly cruel through the night, replaying their brief make out session from almost two month ago. She could remember how her heart had raced, how her blood pumped excitedly through her veins as his hands and mouth touched her skin. She could remember what his weight felt like as he moved over her. She could remember the firmness she had felt grow between his legs.

It was maddening.

"About us," she said.

"Us?" he asked in surprise. He hadn't been expecting her to say that.

"Yes. Us," she repeated. "After last night, I think we should talk."

He quickly hid his grimace but she caught the look as it crossed his face. "Look, last night-"

"Sh," she shushed him quickly. "I'm going to talk and you're going to listen, okay? If you talk it'll just mess things up."

He stared at her, bewildered. "I'll mess-"

"What did I just say?" she interrupted again. "Don't talk."

His brows rose and he probably would have been amused with her if she wasn't being so rude to him. He rested his beer bottle on the railing of the porch, still secured in his hand and placed his other hand on his hip, waiting for her to continue.

Being there, in front of him, suddenly made her very nervous. She was Claire Dearing. She wasn't supposed to get nervous. Especially not with men. She'd worked her entire career around high powered men and fought for her right to be included among them and for their respect (because women often had to fight for the respect that was freely given to men in similar positions - it was a touchy subject for her and not one she wanted to get sidetracked on at that moment).

"You are completely different than any guy I've ever been with," she said. He gave a quick nod, concurring. She turned and began pacing the porch. Avoiding his eyes was making her feel less nervous. "I only got a couple of hours of sleep last night and my stomach is in knots and I feel so anxious. I don't like that you're leaving. I don't like that I don't know where you're going or what you'll be doing or if I'll ever get to see you again."

"Claire, I'm coming back," he assured her. His tone and expression was a bit patronizing.

"You don't know that. Anything could happen," she argued, still pacing. She noticed she had started wringing her hands as well.

"Yeah, but anything could happen here, too. You could drive off a cliff on your way home."

"There's no cliffs on the drive back to my place."

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. We have no control over that kind of thing."

"Well, I don't like that," she said, her voice getting louder.

Owen scoffed. "Of course you don't."

"Don't start," she said sharply. "Don't give me attitude. I'm sick of your attitude. And I told you not to talk."

He held out his hands and looked around the area, like suddenly he was sure where he was.

"You're leaving tomorrow," she said, continuing her pacing. "I don't know what to do." She grabbed her head in her hands and stopped walking, facing away from him.

"I want to be with you," she said quietly, her eyes closed and her hands rubbing at her temples. "I think I've made that clear. I told you I said no to Mark but you keep bringing him up. So what does that mean?" she asked him, turning back around. "Do you not want to be with me? Are you pushing me away?"

He was silent for a moment. "Am I allowed to talk now?" It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Yeah, Claire," he said softly. "You know I want to be with you. I've always wanted to be with you."

"Wait," she said, holding up her hand to stop him. "Always? What do you mean by _always?_ "

"I've always been in to you," he said. "Before we started fake dating. Before the New Year's Eve party. Before the green skirt, even. _Always_. But I knew you wouldn't have _ever_ gone out with me. Not really. And then the party happened and suddenly people thought we were together and I somehow convinced you that we should keep on faking it," he finished, laughing incredulously.

Her head was reeling. "So all those times I was asking you if lines were getting crossed, if you were developing real feelings for me..." She stared at him in awed disbelief. "You _lied_ to me?" she asked, her tone betraying her hurt and angry emotions.

"Yeah!" he admitted freely. He gestured a little too wildly and knocked the beer bottle off the railing. It made a dull thud against the moist dirt at the bottom of the porch. He ignored it for the time being. "I did. Because you wouldn't have looked at me twice if I hadn't. It was my only shot. And believe me, I didn't think it'd end up like this." He shook his head, chuckling viciously. He walked toward the stairs to retrieve the fallen bottle. "I didn't think I'd actually like you _this much_." He walked down the steps, still gesticulating as he spoke. "I thought, after some time together, I'd charm you enough that maybe we'd date for real for a little bit. Maybe we'd hook up a few times." He had turned around to look back at her once he was on the ground. "Then we'd go our separate ways because _in what universe_ would Claire Dearing and Owen Grady be together?" he shouted.

He found the bottle, now empty, and bent down to pick it up.

"But then we spent more and more time together," he continued, "and you were funny and sexy - way more than I thought you'd be. And you'd kiss me like you didn't want me to stop and I thought, you know, I've never felt like this before. I've never wanted this _so damn much_."

He stood on the bottom step and wiped the dirt from the bottle off his hands onto his jeans. She hardly noticed.

"Believe me," he continued, quieter now but still stern, "I never expected you to be so god damned easy to love."

" _Love?_ " she asked thickly. She vaguely recognized she'd lost feeling in her extremities as her blood tingled in her veins.

Owen sighed and a low moan emanated from his throat. The fingers of his free hand came up to rub at his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, Claire," he said, sounding like he was giving up. "Yeah, alright?" He looked her in the eyes, determined again. "I love you."

She took a small step towards him but he held out his hand, stopping her. A look of pain crossed his face. "Don't."

"What?" she breathed, wide-eyed and anxious.

"Don't come to me like that. I know you don't feel that way. You may have feelings for me or think you do. But you're not where I am. Don't pretend like you are. You might not ever be," he said dejectedly. She remained silent, unsure of what to say.

He smiled unhappily. "You know, during the whole charade of us fake dating, I kissed you as often as I could because I kept thinking you'll never let me do this again. One day, you'll wake up and realize I'm not the guy for you. I'm a blue-collar, raptor trainer who sweats outside all day and gets dirt on his hands and carries around hunting and pocket knives and keeps a rifle beneath his bed. And you'll realize I'm too different, that I don't fit into your life the way I wish I did."

"Owen-"

"It's fine," he said. He looked around the small area of yard, then back at his bike. "It sucks, but it's fine."

Claire stood there, shaking her head slowly and gaping at him. When he turned back around to her, he asked what was wrong. She laughed.

"Owen, I ended the fake relationship."

"Yeah. For Givens," he said confidently.

"No," she said quickly. "And I swear, if you bring up Mark one more time, I'll strangle you. I don't care that you think he's perfect for me, or whatever. I don't care that he's funny or nice or smart or a fucking CFO. _I don't want to be with him,_ " she nearly yelled. "Jesus, Owen." She was angry and had no qualms with letting it show.

"You _love_ me?" she asked incredulously. "And you've been thinking this entire time that I couldn't possibly feel the same because - why? Because you didn't go to business school? _Are you kidding me?_ For a man who _says_ he loves me you sure do have a pretty shitty opinion of me. I'm not so shallow, Owen."

"That's not-" he began then stopped. "Wait, if you didn't end things for Givens, then why did you?"

"Because you terrified me!" she yelled shrilly. "You were perfect! You were so good to me and I was shit to you in comparison. I thought, if that's how you really were in a relationship, how could I keep you from someone you could have a real future with? I didn't know- I didn't think then that you-!"

"You broke up with me because you thought you didn't _deserve_ me?" he asked shrewdly. He climbed to the second step. "Claire, that's-"

"Stop. Don't," she warned. She turned around a took another few steps away from him, running her hand through her hair - a tick she normally never did.

"I need an answer," she said, turning back around to face him. He was watching her carefully, like she was one of his raptors about to pounce. "I need to know what's happening. I need...something." She stared at him, a helpless feeling forming in her gut as she waited for his reply. She hated that feeling. "I need to know what's happening between us."

He stared at her, obviously going through some sort of mental debate with himself. "Do you want this? Really? Do you really want to be with me?" he asked slowly.

She nodded, not able to find words.

He walked up the last two steps to the porch landing, taking his time and watching his feet. He brought a hand to his mouth and rubbed at his lips with the side of his index finger.

"The thing is," he said, dragging out his words and making her nerves fray, "I'm leaving tomorrow for two months - _maybe_." He put the empty bottle back on the railing.

"Maybe?" she asked, daring to hope that he'd be able to stay.

"Yeah, maybe two months."

"So you could be gone _longer?_ "

"Yeah," he shrugged, "or I could be back next week. It just depends on how everything comes together."

"Well, what are the odds of you being back sooner?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Not great," he admitted. "I was surprised they estimated two months to begin with. I was expecting a lot longer. Two months is kind of unheard of, actually."

"Great," she muttered.

His lips formed a quick smile before it disappeared. "Yeah, well. Anyway, it kind of hinders things for us, don't you think? I mean," he shrugged again, "what can we do?"

"Owen," she breathed. It was almost painful. "I need to know what's happening. I've wanted this since Blue injured you. I realized how much I want to be around you and with you and how great I feel when I am."

She realized she sounded like she was pleading with him but didn't have the emotional fortitude at that moment to care about seeming strong. She was tired of being strong and tough and, clearly, pride hadn't served the two of them well thus far.

"Please, just tell me," she begged. "Tell me what you want. What are we?"

He seemed to stand there for an eternity. Just standing there. Looking at her like he was mildly confused - maybe even a little scared. Finally, he took a step in her direction and then two more to close the gap between them.

He grabbed her face between both his hands and kissed her fiercely. She wrapped her hands around his wrists as she accepted his lips with hers. Then both his arms were wrapped around her waist as he pulled her body into his. They kissed passionately for a few minutes, hours, days...who knew? Claire certainly didn't. Her heart was racing against her chest at an embarrassing pace and all she could think about was how much more she wanted from him. She didn't want him to leave. She wanted him to stay. With her. In his bed, preferably.

A rumble of thunder brought her over-excited mind to heel and she regained focus of her current situation. Owen had a hand firmly placed on her hip and another in her hair at the base of her head, holding her there. Hers were gripping his shirt. She began walking backwards, pulling him with her, towards the door she knew was behind her somewhere.

"Hm, Claire," he whispered, not letting her lead him. "We shouldn't- I'm leaving tomorrow and-" She kissed him again. "If we start this now, I'll never want to leave."

"Good," she said against his lips.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her chest to press against his. She opened her mouth to him and felt his arms wound tightly around her waist. After a moment, after she left like she had hooks in him, she began slowly walking backwards again to the door.

His tongue was lapping deliciously against hers as he stumbled after her. He must have decided to give in because he leaned farther forward, having to break contact with her mouth for a short while as both his hands travel down her ass to the back of her thighs where he then lifted her and attached his lips back to hers. Her skirt, a pleated black number, protested the position against the tops of her hips but didn't split, surprisingly.

With her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist, he traveled the last step to the door and opened his trailer for them. He carried her to the table and set her down, staying put between her legs. She squeezed her thighs around his hips as he grabbed her face in both his hands. Her fingers deftly made work of three buttons on his shirt before he pulled back marginally, breathing heavily.

"Claire," he panted. "I'm serious. If we do this, they'll never get me on that chopper."

"Chopper?" she asked, confused though pleasantly distracted as his mouth fell to her neck. "I thought you were leaving on the ferry."

"Plans changed," he said against her neck. His hands were gripping her ass and pulling her closer to the edge of the table. "Chopper's flying in tomorrow morning."

"So you have one more night here," she said, gasping as she felt his teeth nip at the skin just below her ear. "And you don't want to have sex?"

"We shouldn't," he said, finally standing upright and looking her in the eye. "It's not that I don't want to."

Her fingers started working on his shirt buttons again. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"There's plenty more we can do," she said, sliding off the table, "without having sex."

She grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards his bedroom.

"No," he said, fighting her struggle to get him down the short hallway only half-heartedly. "No, Claire. We should wait."

"We've been waiting long enough," she said. "I want this. I want you. I know you want me." She dropped his arm and faced him, standing just inside his bedroom. She started undoing the buttons of her own blouse. "So come have me."

He watched her undo all the buttons on her shirt and just when she was about to pull it completely open, he rushed forward and put his lips on hers. She felt his hands on hers that were still gripping the sides of her blouse. He was keeping them still, not letting her undress any further.

"I thought this was your game," she breathed against his lips. "I thought you learn my body with your hands and mouth first anyway?"

"Mm," he hummed. "Remembered that, did you?"

"It was sort of hard to forget," she said, grinning. "It's caused some very thrilling dreams, though."

He smiled. His hands released hers and slid around her waist, under her shirt, and around to her back. The warmth felt amazing. Her hands fell down to the buckle on his pants which she worked to undo quickly lest he stop her again.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked softly, giving in, apparently.

" _Learn_ me," she said, smiling. "And let me learn you."

He groaned quietly before kissing her again. His hands left her body to wrench off the shirt she'd left unbuttoned on him. She finished with his belt buckle and moved immediately onto the button of his pants which was much harder to undo. He brought his hands to her shoulders and slid her blouse down her arms which was difficult to manage as she struggled with his jeans. Finally she succeeded wrenching the stupid metal button from the clasping hole and pulled her arms back to free herself from her shirt as he lifted his undershirt over his head and tossed it to the side. Claire went right back to his jeans and opened the zipper. Together, they pulled his pants down, leaving him in his boxer briefs. After kicking his feet free of his shoes and socks and then the legs of his pants, his hands worked around the back of her skirt, trying to find a clasp or way of getting her out of it. She took pity on him and pulled down the side zipper herself. It fell easily to her feet where she divested of her heels.

He lifted her again and she gasped at the feeling of his skin on hers - smooth and warm. He brought them both down on the bed, his body looming over hers, her legs still wrapped around his hips, his legs bent at the knees, almost like they were supporting her thighs. She could feel his erection against the apex of her legs and it was maddening knowing what small, flimsy layers separated them.

His lips dipped to her neck and then down to her clavicle as her hands ran across his back and shoulders. His head moved farther south to her breasts where, after nosing aside one of the cups of her bra and pulling the same side's strap down her arm, his tongue laved at her nipple before he took it in his mouth. Her back arched involuntarily at the sudden sensation and she gasped rather loudly.

His hands snaked up to hers that were grabbing at his hair and pulled them away and down to the mattress. He pulled his head back and stretched their arms far over their heads. He smiled down at her.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she said back.

"You're sure about this?"

"I'm the one willing to go farther," she said. "So yeah, I'm sure."

He laughed and ducked down to kiss her neck again. "I'm trying to be responsible, here," he said against her skin.

"I know." She raised her chest into his touch as he moved one of his hands down her arm to her breast. "It's very frustrating."

He repositioned them so he was lying on his side next to her, propped up on one of his elbows. His fingers trailed down her stomach, down to the top of one of her thighs, and around to the inside of her leg. She turned to face him and raised her leg to wrap back around his hip. His hand moved quickly as they kissed and her hand clutched his shoulder as she felt one of his fingers slide easily inside her.

That damn finger curled, exited and entered, and kept her heart rate elevated. She pushed on his shoulder and he rolled onto his back, allowing her the opportunity to sit astride him, his hand still between her legs. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, pulling the straps down her shoulders and tossing the fabric to the side. Owen quickly sat up and wrapped his free hand around her waist while spreading wet kisses across her chest.

"Owen," Claire preened quietly. It wasn't enough - it wasn't _nearly_ enough. She knew she'd need more if she were to climax. More pressure. More friction. Just, _more_.

He slipped another finger inside her, understanding her unspoken request, and stimulated her clitoris with his thumb. It was better - much better. She began rolling her hips against his hand since there was only so much moving he could do in their position. Eventually she stopped him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands away from her body much like he did to her a short while before.

"What?" he asked, breathing heavily and finding her eyes.

"I'm supposed to be learning you, too," she said with a sly smile.

He smiled as well and quickly kissed her. "I'm not done with you, yet," he said.

"We can come back to this," she explained and she shuffled backwards and let her hands fall on his torso, moving towards the band on his underwear. "It's your turn right now."

"I was enjoying myself, believe me," he said.

His breathing became shakier as Claire's hand found his member over his briefs. He rolled them again so he was hovering over her. Working together, they removed his last layer of clothing and her hands worked him into gasps and pants. His mouth fell to her neck and chest again. After a minute or so, Claire shimmied herself free of her underwear, leaving them both bare to the other.

"Have you changed your mind yet?" Claire asked as his hand moved back between her legs.

"Claire, I'm barely holding on to my last shred of self-restraint as it is. Please, do not tempt me," he said.

"But I'm right here," she said, smiling. "I'm naked, laying under you. You're naked, on top of me. The math just adds up."

"Stop talking," he ordered. He worked his mouth down her body. "I'm not done learning you yet," he said against her hip.

"You're beard is scratchy," she said with a gasp as he kissed the inside of her thigh. His scruff was sharp against her skin having just recently shaved.

"I'll try to be careful," he said just before his tongue delved into her folds.

The noises she made would have embarrassed her had she had any wits about her. If he cared at all, though, his mouth never betrayed him. She grabbed at his sheets and arched her back as he continued his torturous assault. After the initial shock to her system of his slick, warm tongue on her most sensitive area dulled marginally, and her mental facilities were brought back to her, she reached for a pillow and held it over her face. Because if she wasn't able to control the sounds coming out of her, she could at least try to control the volume.

"No," he said suddenly. She quickly tried to catch her breath during the reprieve of his tongue. Owen reach up and grabbed at the pillow, tossing it to the side. "No hiding."

"I don't want the guests to hear me," she said, laughing a little.

"We're alone," he assured her. "No one around to hear you scream."

She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "That's so creepy - why does it sound so sexy?"

"Can I keep going now?" he asked with a hint of humorous impatience.

"Please," she said, nodding emphatically.

He had her mewling and craning her back and clenching her fists and curling her toes until she tumbled over the edge of her orgasm.

She was gasping and humming through her moans as Owen kissed his way back up her body. He laid beside her on his side and was smiling when she finally opened her eyes.

"Hi," he said cheerfully.

She sat up quickly and scrambled off the bed. She then grabbed him behind his knees and proceeded to steer him towards the edge, where he sat with her kneeling between his legs.

He was still chuckling at her as she took him in her hands. Those laughs quickly turned to gasps and groans as she wrapped her lips around his tip and slid down his shaft. He was too long to take much in her mouth and deep throating had never been a skill of hers so she worked what was left of his length in her hand. Her hand twisted lightly at his base while her tongue lapped hard at the underside of his tip. It wasn't long before she found a rhythm he seemed to enjoy if his clenching fists and the small jerks of his hips were anything to go by.

"Claire," he breathed in warning after a while. "You should stop."

She hummed a negative and continued her ministrations. The vibration of her mouth made him moan which made her want to laugh. She didn't want to break the spell he was under, though, so she kept her mirth to herself.

"Claire," he hissed again. He came in her mouth - hot and bitter, and she swallowed quickly.

She sat up and leaned forward to place a kiss on one of the new pink scars that slashed across his chest. He fell back onto the bed and draped an arm over his eyes. Claire crawled up his body, straddling his waist and pulled his arm away.

"No hiding, Grady," she mocked.

His chest was still heaving with deep breaths as his eyes found her. He sat up again and wrapped both his arms around her, kissing her quickly, then resting his forehead against hers. She could feel his pounding heart against her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"I can't believe..." he muttered. "I can't believe we did that before I took you out on a date."

She laughed and shook her head. "We've been on a ton of dates."

"Fake dates," he said.

"We'll call them practice dates," she decided. "If that makes you feel any better."

He nodded. "Okay." He reached his hands up to her face and kissed her again.

* * *

 **And I'm sure some of you were wondering if that M rating was ever going to be more than foul language... Ha!**

 **Now go review and let me know your thoughts.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Another chapter I didn't proof my normal five-times, so sorry about any mistakes. I hope you enjoy it anyway. Thanks for the reviews from the last chapter! You're all so crazy supportive. I love it!**

* * *

"Where's my shirt?" she asked as she rifled through his chest of drawers.

"On the ground?" Owen suggested distractedly from the kitchen.

"No, not the shirt I came over in," she explained. "The Navy shirt I wore when I was staying here."

Owen took a step back from the counter to look down the short hall, into the bedroom where Claire was standing in a pair of his boxers with her arms folded across her bare chest to hide her breasts.

He smiled. "You don't need a shirt. You look great just like that," he teased.

"Seriously," she said chuckling. "Where is it?"

"I packed it away," he answered as he turned back to the counter.

He'd pulled on a pair of shorts and was making them dinner while shirtless. It was a sight she figured she could get used to.

"You packed it?" she asked, horrified. "You're taking it with you?"

"It is _my_ shirt," he reasoned. "And it's Navy-issued and I'm going back to work with them directly...so, yeah, I packed it."

"But what am I going to wear?" she asked sullenly.

"I've got other shirts," he said laughing. "Or, like I said, stay like that."

She huffed an annoyed sigh and wrenched his drawer of shirts back open. She grabbed a faded forest green one that she realized after pulling it out had the park's logo on the chest.

"Why is it that men's clothes are so much more comfortable than women's?" she wondered aloud.

"It's a conspiracy," Owen answered. "Men design women's clothes to make them so uncomfortable that women practically beg to be undressed."

She snorted as she walked into the kitchen/dining area of the trailer after picking up their discarded clothes off the floor and folding them neatly.

"What are you making?" she asked curiously as she sat on the dining bench.

"Spaghetti," he answered. She was about to make a smart remark about the meal, remembering when he'd given her a hard time for making him spaghetti when he was injured, but he turned around to give her a hard stare. "With meat in the sauce."

She smiled. "So it's a complete meal, then," she mused. "Not just - what did you call it? _Air?_ "

He smiled as he turned back to the two-burner stove top. "Exactly. I would have grilled, but" - he craned his neck to peek out a nearby window - "it doesn't look like great weather out there."

Claire could hear the light smattering of raindrops on the roof. It wasn't a heavy rain, but there had been sporadic rolls of thunder that promised a storm.

"Maybe you'll be delayed in the morning," she suggested hopefully.

"I doubt it," he mumbled.

"I'll keep my fingers crossed."

He smirked and brought the pot of noodles to the sink to drain.

"Do you need help?" she offered kindly.

"I got it," he said, prideful. "I'm cooking my girl dinner."

"Your girl?" she asked.

"Lady. Woman." He shrugged. "Whatever you prefer."

"It was that first possessive word I was wondering about," she clarified. Sure, they'd just fooled around, but earlier when she'd asked what they were, he only answered with a kiss.

He grabbed two plates from a cabinet over his head and forked some noodles onto each.

"Alright, what would you call yourself?" he countered evenly before scooping sauce onto each pile of spaghetti.

She shrugged as he sat down across from her, placing their plates down. "I guess that would go the other way too, right? You would then be _my_ boy, gentleman, man, whatever?" She stood and grabbed the forks that he'd forgotten on the counter and napkins for each of them. "You wouldn't be allowed to go find some cute Navy girl to have a two month affair with," she warned as she sat back down.

"And you wouldn't be allowed to hook up with Givens, or Brines, or McPherson, or anyone else while I'm away either," he said.

"So, we'd be exclusive."

"Yep," he said. He spun his noodles around his fork. "You think you could handle that?"

"I might," she said, smiling, "if the incentive was good enough."

He smiled and took a bite of his food. He nodded and looked around the trailer in thought as they ate in silence for a moment. "What would you like as the incentive?" he asked finally.

She paused, thinking. "Just tell me this is real for you," she said. "Tell me this isn't just an elaborate conquest or trick just to get in my pants."

"Come on, Claire," he said. "You know me better than that."

"I just want to hear you say it."

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back in his seat. He stared at her with determination. "It's real," he said. "It's been real. It's _always_ been real - I told you that."

She nodded firmly. "Okay, then."

"Okay?" he asked. She thought he sounded a little hopeful.

"There's just the small matter of my shirt..." she said softly as she took a bite of her dinner. She flashed him a sly smile.

"Maybe I wanted to take that shirt as a reminder of you," he said, smiling. "You're really going to take that away from me?"

She regarded him carefully for a moment. "No, I suppose not. But I want it when you come back."

"It's yours," he agreed. "So, that's it? That's all the incentive you need?"

Claire nodded and smiled a bit shyly, but happily as well.

"Good," he said with a grin.

He looked back down to his spaghetti and started stirring the noodles again but stopped after a moment and dropped his forked. She started laughing as he quickly scrambled out of the bench and moved around the table to her side. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the booth and into his arms. He kissed her quickly, both of them still smiling. He surprised her then by lifting her, bridal style, and carrying her into the bedroom, maneuvering as needed through the narrow hall.

...

That night, Claire was woken up by the shifting of the bed. Groggily, she blinked as the small bedside light was turned on. Owen was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over.

"What's wrong?" she asked slowly.

"I'm just making a note for Barry," he said softly. "Go back to sleep."

She stretched lazily and yawned. She reached over the side of the bed and grabbed the park shirt laying on the ground. After their excited second tryst in the sheets they'd quickly fallen asleep. Or, at least, she had. She hadn't had that much fun in bed _without_ sex since she was a virgin. He liked hearing her vocalize her pleasure, she realized. It turned him on. He did started laughing when she cried out a particularly loud four-letter word, though.

"Are you writing Barry love notes?" she teased as she pulled the shirt over her head.

"No, I'll save those for you," he said, distracted. "I keep remembering things about the girls I want him to know."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she said, trying to reassure him.

"Yeah," he said. He continued scribbling in a notebook for another minute.

Eventually, he put the book and pen down and laid back against the headboard of the bed. She turned and curled into his chest.

"You should sleep," she mumbled. The rain still hadn't let up and the noise of it pounding on the roof was lulling her back to sleep. She never heard that sound living in her apartment.

"I will," he promised. He kissed the top of her head. She was almost back asleep when he reached for the notebook and pen again. She rolled off of him, too tired to want to be disturbed, and drifted off.

...

The following morning found Barry and Claire standing on the helipad by the control room with Owen as he continued scribbling notes in the small notepad.

"You'd think I've never worked with the animals before," Barry said to her with a nod at the notepad, "judging by the novel he's writing."

"I just keep remembering things," Owen explained. "Charlie's got that infection on her heel, remember?" he asked, not looking up from the booklet. "She needs the antibiotics twice a day and the cut has to be cleaned every night."

"I remember," Barry said.

"I wrote it down anyway," Owen said with a sigh as he finally closed the notepad. "Don't kill any of them, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Barry said. "Don't get yourself killed."

The two men shared a quick hug and Owen passed along the notepad just as the helicopter was flying overhead.

"I'll do my best," Owen repeated.

"He's not allowed," Claire assured Barry. "I decided he's not longer allowed to get hurt. After Blue put him in the Med Bay," she explained and smiled tightly at Owen.

"Right. It's fool proof," Owen said with a nod and a smile.

The helicopter landed and Barry said his final goodbye. The Naval personnel visiting the island lead the way to the open door of the large chopper, leaning forward as the gusts from the blades whirled around them. Claire gave up trying to control the movement of her hair - there was no helping it.

She and Owen shared a long, strong hug before he kissed her. "I'll text or call when I can," he shouted over the wind and noise of the machinery. "It might not be that often, though."

Claire nodded. "You have to be careful, okay?" she said earnestly. "You're supposed to take me out when you get back."

"I know," he said with a large grin. "I'll be working on the itinerary while I'm gone." She smiled.

"Please keep an eye on my raptors," he said. "Kick Hoskins in the balls if you have to."

"I will," she promised.

He grabbed the back of her head and kissed her again. He pulled back, then bent over to collect his bag off the ground. He turned to leave but only made it a step before he turned back to her.

"You know I'm crazy about you, right?" he yelled.

She nodded, smiling. Her eyes were watering and she couldn't tell if it was from the gusts or him leaving. Probably both, admittedly. "I know."

"Grady! We have to go!" someone from the helicopter shouted. "Just kiss her and get in the damn chopper!"

Owen smiled and Claire stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.

She didn't want him to go. She _really_ didn't want him to go. It was cruel to have started this only to have him leave for two months.

 _Too late now_ , she thought.

He pulled away from her, smiling that charming smile that she no longer found so irritating.

She watched the helicopter door slide closed behind him and rose steadily in the air. She backed up as the wind grew stronger. Before long, the helicopter was flying full speed and disappearing to the north.

...

Zara had asked Claire a couple days after Owen left what their status was. She explained they had reconnected the day before he left. Her assistant had been excited for her - more excited than she thought was strictly appropriate.

"I'm so happy for you," Zara gushed. "After seeing the two of you together, I always thought he was so good for you."

"I think so too," Claire agreed shyly.

"What did Mark say about it?" Zara asked in a hushed tone.

Claire shook her head. "I haven't really mentioned it to Mark," she said slowly. She wasn't aware that Zara knew about Mark's feelings for her.

"What did you tell him when he asked you out?"

"How do you...?" Claire asked shrewdly.

"Oh," Zara said, recovering some of her decorum. "Word had just gotten around, that's all. Water-cooler gossip, you know."

Claire smiled softly. "Right, of course." Gossip traveled fast in the park. That was how word of her and Owen being fake together had started everything in the first place.

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she looked down in surprise as seeing Owen's name on the screen.

"I have to take this," she said hurriedly. She rushed into her office and accepted the call.

"Hi!" she greeted happily.

" _Hey, beautiful_ ," he said.

She smiled. "I didn't think I'd hear from you so soon."

" _Yeah, well, I don't have long to talk as it is. I'm about to get on a plane,_ " he explained. " _But I wanted to call and make sure you weren't already having to beat the guys away with sticks now that I'm gone._ "

"So far, just one over enthusiastic server at Starbucks," she teased.

" _Shit_ ," he muttered. " _Alright, I think I can take the coffee guy. Let me know when David Brines starts asking for you to come by for an impromptu evaluation, because then I know I'm in trouble_."

"Don't worry about Brines," she told him. "He doesn't really do anything for me."

" _Maybe not, but after him comes McPherson who will try to come crawling back to you,_ " he said knowingly. " _And then I'll have come back just so I can kick his ass._ "

She laughed. "What about you? Any women I should be worried about?"

" _Well, the JAG officer who threatened to charge me with treason if I gave up any classified information was cute. Of course she was about thirty years older than I typically go for and married_."

"Oh, you're funny," she said sarcastically.

" _Nah, you know I'm too into you to even be looking_ ," he said. " _I miss you already._ "

"Yeah," she said with a heavy breath. "I miss you too. How's that itinerary coming along?"

" _So far it's mostly just all the ways and places I want to have sex with you,_ " he admitted which made her laugh. " _I'm trying to fit dinner in somewhere, but I don't know if that'll work. Omit the nonessential stuff, ya know?_ "

"Sure," she said, still laughing. "Maybe you could send me a copy of it sometime."

" _That might be tough but I'll try,_ " he agreed. " _Hey, I mainly called to let you know that it looks like I'll be in the command station for this whole thing. So I won't be out there in the line of fire or anything._ "

"Oh, good," she said, relieved.

" _Yeah, so unless our base gets attacked I should be good,_ " he said casually.

"Thanks," she said tightly. "Now I'll be worried about that."

" _Don't worry,_ " he said, chuckling a little. " _I'll be fine._ "

"Would I even be told if something did happen to you?" she asked.

" _Yeah, you'll know,_ " he said confidently.

"How? Won't the Navy just tell your family?"

" _Don't worry about it,_ " he deflected. " _I've got it taken care of_."

"But _how?_ " she pushed.

" _Just relax,_ " he laughed. " _You'll know._ "

"Okay, but say something happens and I _don't_ find out. Who am I supposed to call and yell at?"

" _Claire_ ," he sighed, sounding frustrated.

"Just tell me," she urged, smiling.

" _Oh_ ," he groaned. " _My mother,_ " he answered tightly.

"Your mother?" That might have been the last thing she expected him to say.

" _Yeah_ ," he said. " _I got a chance to call her last night and I let her know that if something happens to me, she's got to call you_."

"You told your mom about me?" she asked. Her tone was only mildly teasing.

" _Yes. Are you happy?"_ he said. His defensiveness made her smile all the more. " _I made her promise me that she wouldn't call you unless it was an emergency, but, you never know with her. She's nosey. And I don't normally tell her about the women I date so she's probably busting at the seams with questions for you. So if she calls and it's not to tell you that I've died, I'm sorry. Just be wary of phone numbers with a six-one-five area code. Okay?_ "

"You told your mom about me," she laughed. "That's so sweet," she taunted.

" _Yeah, it is freaking sweet, okay?_ " His embarrassment was endearing.

She heard someone speaking to him on the other end. " _Okay_ ," he answered an unheard question. " _I've got to go, Claire,_ " Owen told her.

"Okay," she said suddenly nervous again. "Be safe. And please call or text when you can."

" _I will. And, hey, listen,_ " he said quietly, " _I, uh- Well, you know how I feel about you, right? I mean, telling my mom about you should tell you something._ " He let out a nervous chuckle. " _I just want to make sure you know that I'm in this - wholly._ "

"Okay." Her throat felt constricted. "I'm in this, too," she told him, not able to say anymore.

" _Good. I've got to go._ "

"Bye," she said sadly.

" _Bye, beautiful_."

...

Claire and Zara went out for dinner one night to discuss some work related events that were coming up. However, after gorging themselves on pasta and wine, they moved on to more personal topics. Zara was immensely curious about Owen and Claire's relationship.

"Have you been able to speak with him since he's left?" she asked while sipping her second glass of wine.

"Just once," Claire answered, "a couple days after he left."

"That must be hard," Zara sympathized. "I'm so happy that you're back together, though. Why did you break up to begin with?"

If Claire hadn't been halfway through her second glass of red, she might not have said anything. But as it was, she was drinking, and, really, she didn't have many people she felt she could open up to.

"It's hard to say," she began delicately. "We started fighting a lot." Fake fighting. "He was getting a little jealous of me spending time Mark." A lot jealous, actually. "But, honestly, it started to feel like he was suffocating me. Not in the way that he was constantly around, or wouldn't leave me alone; he was usually very good about letting me have my own space. He was just constantly _so good_." She stared, unseeing, at the small candle in the center of the table. "I started to feel like I didn't deserve the kind of affection and care that he was giving me. It felt so unconditional. And I felt so guilty over it." She looked back to Zara. "Does that make sense?"

"No," Zara said laughing. Claire smiled. "No, I suppose, in a way it does." Zara took another sip from her glass. "I just think that, if I had a man treating me like Owen treated you, I would have learned to live with the guilt."

Claire chuckled. "Maybe that's what I should have done."

"Well, no matter now. It all worked out," her assistant said airily. "And everyone's thrilled about it. Even Daniel."

"I _know_ ," Claire said. "And he _hated_ Owen."

"And Owen hates him."

"Owen _really_ hates him," Claire agreed, laughing.

The rest of their short dinner consisted mainly of Zara catching Claire up on the latest gossip going around the rumor mill. She even let some details slip about her own personal life. Apparently there was a man in HR, one of Daniel's subordinates, that she was in a casual flirting relationship with. She told Claire that nothing had happened yet between them, and that nothing might ever happen, but that she was having fun playing the game for now.

...

Claire was soaking in warm bath. A few candles were lit, there was a glass of wine sitting on a shelf within reach, and the soft music playing in her bedroom was set to just the right muffled volume as the sound carried into the bathroom. She was relaxed as the water soothed her tense muscles and calmed her nerves.

She jumped in surprise at the sound of her cell vibrating across the tiled floor beside the bath. She didn't recognize the number, but that wasn't surprising. Vendors called her all the times from all over the world.

"Hello?" she greeted, trying to sound like she wasn't naked in a bathtub.

" _Hey_ ," said the familiar, yet tired sounding voice.

She sank deeper into the water, feeling a new level of immediate relief at the sound of Owen's voice after a little more than a month without it. "Hi." She let out a long breath and realized her muscles relaxed even further. Apparently, she was more tense than she had realized.

" _Talk, please,_ " he said. " _I just need to hear you talk_."

"Okay," she said quietly. "I went to see the raptors the other day. I met that Hoskins guy. You were right - he's an ass. I _think_ he was flirting with me. He was trying to impress me by talking about his time in the service and how one time he beat a guy to a pulp."

" _Yeah_ ," Owen sighed. " _That sounds like him. How are my girls?_ "

"They're good. Barry let me feed them rats," she answered. "Delta still doesn't like me too much. And Blue actually seemed a little timid, too. But Charlie and Echo were showing off for me. They were jumping and running around."

He hummed but didn't say anything so she kept talking.

"Barry said Charlie's infection has cleared and the cut is healed. He wanted me to tell you that if I talked to you."

" _Good_ ," he mumbled.

She paused, just listening to him breathing. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

" _Yeah_ ," he answered. " _Just tired and missing you._ "

"I miss you, too. You should get some sleep, though. You sound exhausted."

" _I am,_ " he agreed. He sighed heavily again. " _I'd give anything to be with you in my bed back home right now._ "

"I bet you'd prefer me where I am now," she said coyly.

" _Where are you now?_ "

"I'm in my bathtub," she told him.

He groaned. " _You're right. That's better,_ " he said. " _That's where I want to be - in there with you_."

"I think I'd like it if you were here too."

" _Where would I be if I was with you?_ " he asked.

"You'd be sitting behind me so I could lean back against your chest."

" _And where would my hands be?_ "

"On me," she said, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

" _Where?_ " he asked.

"Owen," she whined, feeling embarrassed.

" _Fine_ ," he conceded. " _We'll save the phone sex till after we've had actual sex. Although, I don't think it's fair that you're talking to me while naked._ "

"Is it distracting you?"

" _Yes_ ," he admitted.

"At least now you sound more awake," she teased.

" _Yeah_ ," he scoffed. " _Thanks for that_."

She laughed quietly. "Maybe you should add 'bathtub' to your itinerary."

" _Yeah, maybe I should_ ," he agreed. His tone was settling back down again into the exhaustion he'd first called her with. " _I've already got the shower on there, though. I don't want to be too redundant._ "

"Is there such a thing with sex?" she mused.

" _You're right. I'm talking nonsense, forgive me. It must be because I'm so tired_ ," he said.

"I'll let it slide this time."

" _Hey, I just realized I'm wearing the shirt you like_."

"Oh, yeah? How is my favorite shirt doing?"

" _It's holding up pretty well,_ " he replied. " _It misses you, though._ "

"I miss it, too," she said seriously. "I've been cheating on it with your other shirt, lately."

" _The park shirt? You took that?_ "

"Of course I did," she scoffed.

" _I had no idea I was dating such a klepto_ ," he said. " _That's good information to have going forward._ "

"I told you, your shirts are more comfortable than mine. I change into it as soon as I get home from work," she told him.

" _Yeah?_ " She could hear his smile. " _I'd like to see that_."

"Well, get back here and you can."

" _Yeah. I'm working on that._ "

"Do you still think it'll be another month?"

" _Hard to say_ ," he sighed. " _But it's looking that way._ "

"Just try not to be longer than that."

" _I'll do my best._ "

He yawned loudly and she chuckled. "We should stop talking so you can sleep."

" _Alright, but only because you insist_ ," he mumbled.

"Uh huh. Good night, Owen."

" _Good night, beautiful._ "

...

"No, this won't work," Claire said as she eyed the proposal in her hands. "We can't go to them with this. They'll never approve it."

"What would you suggest, then?" asked the irritable man standing with her.

"No sponsor would ever agree to these numbers. They're outrageous," she said.

"It's what we need to run the attraction," he argued. "You know how expensive the assets are to maintain."

"Maybe we could split it up between two sponsors?" Zara suggested standing next to them in the hall.

"No," Claire denied. "Companies don't like to share publicity."

"You just need to target the big guys," the man said. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Claire paid no attention to his silent tantrum. "You know...Apple, Google, Comcast."

Claire handed him back the proposal. "Get it down to two-thirds that price and I'll make it work."

The man huffed. "Sure, I'll talk to Holt. Maybe we can starve the assets a little to cut down on food costs," he said sarcastically.

"Just get it done," Claire said evenly as she pulled out her phone. Why people even bothered trying to argue with her, she'd never understand.

Zara gasped suddenly which caught Claire's attention. Her assistant brought her hand up to her mouth, her fingers just covering her smile. Her eyes flickered to Claire who looked over her shoulder to see what had caused such a reaction.

She gasped too, seeing Owen walking down the hall from the elevator. He smiled as he saw her. She was so surprised, she couldn't move. She felt tears starting to form in her eyes and fought them back. They'd been together - _really_ together - for just over two months and during that time, they'd only been on the island together for less than twenty-four hours. Crying hysterically at seeing him felt a little excessive.

But as he came ever closer, she cared less and less about what seemed excessive.

"Hey, honey," he said when he was a few feet from her. "I'm home."

She wrapped her arms quickly around his neck and his were squeezed around her waist. He lifted her only slightly off the ground as they hugged. His arms were tight and strong around her and it was the first time she felt warm in this Central American fall since he'd left. He set her back down on the ground after a long moment and tried to pull away but she wouldn't let him which made him laugh. Her heart was fluttering. Her mind was blank except for the single thought that she knew she didn't want to let go of him.

"Claire," he called softly.

"When did you get here? How?" she asked quickly, embarrassed by how breathless she sounded.

"I just came in on the ferry," he told her quietly, speaking close to her ear as she still hadn't released him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" she asked.

She pulled back just enough to see his face. He smiled softly and leaned down quickly to kiss her.

"I wanted to surprise you. Barry picked me up at the docks," he answered her.

She was still near-thoughtless as she reached up to kiss him again, happy she was finally able to do so.

"Can you get out of here early?" he asked her.

"Yes," Zara said suddenly, loudly. Claire started, having forgotten that her assistant was standing next to them.

"But, I have that-"

"I moved it," Zara explained happily. "You're free for the rest of the afternoon. And tomorrow."

Claire eyed her shrewdly, pulling back a little more from Owen so only her hands were hanging on to his shoulders. "Did you know he was coming back today?"

Zara, still smiling happily, glanced at Owen.

"Barry told her," Owen said. "Her job was to make sure that if word somehow got out that I was coming back it wouldn't get around to you." He held up a hand for her assistant to slap. "Nice job." They high-fived.

"I guess I'm free then," Claire said, looking back and grinning at Owen.

"Good. We should get going because I've got a whole itinerary we need to get through this evening."

* * *

 **I wrote an entire phone-sex scene for them for when Claire was in the bath but decided to cut it in favor of this version that felt more real. Maybe I'll add it in later.**

 **Some people have mentioned me continuing this story forever and ever and ever which is obviously very flattering. And I've clearly left myself open to discuss the events or a version of the events from the movie. But I feel like I should be fair to you all and let you know that this story only has two or three more REAL chapters. I might still write on within this canon, but the story of how Owen and Claire fake dated until they became real will be over.**

 **But on another note, I have a new AU story in mind for these two characters. And it's significantly smuttier. ;]**


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry for the wait. Here it is, people. Enjoy!**

* * *

Claire impatiently sat on Owen's bed as he finished his shower. He'd driven her (she insisted he drive her Mercedes because she was still too jittery by his sudden appearance) to her apartment to pick up a change of clothes for that night and the next day, and then to his bungalow. They'd been held up at her place (her fault - she had basically attacked his mouth as soon as they entered her apartment) and were now running late for whatever plans he had for them that night. Which was why, when she had playfully - but seriously - asked to join him in his shower he turned her down.

"We will never leave this trailer," he had laughed, pulling her struggling hands away from him. "We'll never make it to dinner."

"Dinner is overrated," she said. "Come on, Grady. Don't you want to be inside me?"

" _Evil_ ," he hissed as her hands groped over his chest. He quickly swatted her away.

Claire changed tactics then, and started unbuttoning her blouse.

"No!" he said in warning. "Don't you dare, Dearing."

She pulled her shirt open and smiled triumphantly as his eyes roamed her torso.

"No!" he yelled again. He smiled and covered his eyes with one hand. The other hand started feeling the walls around him as he blindly made his way to the bathroom. "Just, get dressed."

"I'm taking my bra off," she sang.

Owen opened the door to the bathroom and peeked between his fingers at the same time. She was still in the process of unclasping the straps from behind her back when he slipped inside and locked the door behind him.

"I'll be out in five minutes!" he called to her.

"You're no fun," she yelled back. She took out the clothes (and lingerie) she'd packed up for that evening and dressed.

He took longer than five minutes, though, which was why she lazily sat on his bed, flipping through an old book she'd found on the history of World War I.

...

"These get hot fast, okay? Don't touch those," he said, pointing to a pipe on either side of his motorcycle.

She nodded. "Okay. Shouldn't we be wearing helmets?"

"We'll be okay," he assured her.

"I think we should be wearing helmets."

"If you like this, I'll buy us each a helmet, okay?" he agreed. She could hear his patience stretching thin which made her smirk.

She nodded again and he swung his leg over the back of the bike to ride. He reached down and flipped out pegs for her feet to rest on.

"Alright," he said with a smile. "Zip up that jacket and get on."

His smile was infectious despite her nerves. She fastened her leather jacket and propped one of her heels up on a peg. He offered his hand to steady her, and she placed the other on his shoulder as she awkwardly maneuvered herself to straddle the seat behind him.

"Just don't kill us, please," she begged anxiously.

He chuckled. "There isn't too much traffic on this island, so we should be good."

...

They sat on the same side of a booth in a casual restaurant. He'd made a reservation but it hadn't been necessary as they weren't busy. Her legs still tingled from the vibration of the motorcycle and he had his arm draped over the back of the booth behind her.

They were _that_ couple. The ones that canoodled like no one else was around. The annoying ones that kissed every three seconds and had whispered conversations with their foreheads touching.

She hated those couples. But she couldn't find a care to give at being one.

They were in their thirties and acting like they were teenagers. At one point, he'd brought his arm from behind her shoulders to let his hand rest on her thigh and she'd brought both of hers up to grip his arm, massaging his bicep as his thumb rubbed circles on her pants.

She asked him about his time away and he'd told her as much as she supposed he could - which was hardly anything. He told her funny stories about the other officers and about the terrible food. He asked her about the raptors and if he'd missed anything exciting happen (they had an apatosaur clumsily trip and fall down a sizable hill in the valley. It had shook the surrounding areas so much that a nearby SkyRail train had to perform an emergency stop. Other than that and the mess it took to lead the dinosaur - thankfully uninjured - back to its herd, nothing major had occurred).

...

"We don't have to do this, you know," he told her as they stood in his bedroom, kissing slowly. It was obvious where the rest of the evening was leading them. "We can wait, if you want."

She kissed him again, her hands running down his chest. "I don't want to wait," she whispered. They kissed again, long and slow, and it made her not want to ask but she figured she should. "Do _you_ want to wait?"

He laughed against her lips. "God, no." His arms wrapped tighter around her waist and he lifted her a few inches off the ground as his lips latched onto hers.

Once he'd set her back down, they quickly began divesting each other of their clothes. She lifted his shirt off and he unbuckled his belt and pants. She pulled her own shirt off and his hands cupped her ass as the skin of their chests met and felt like warm silk. She began nudging his jeans down his hips and his hand came around to the front of her pants to undo the button. She helped remove them as they were tight on her legs and difficult to get off. When she reached for the band of his boxers, he stopped her.

"Wait," he gasped, pulling away from her mouth. "One second."

He left her, suddenly very cold without his hands on her, and dashed to the bathroom and quickly returned with a box in hand. Condoms, she noticed with a quirk of her brow.

"I told you I'm on the pill," she said as he put the box on his nightstand.

"Yeah, well," he said uneasily. "I didn't want to just _assume_ , you know. And we've never talked about past partners or anything..."

She chuckled suddenly.

"What?" he asked.

"You brought out a whole box."

He turned back to look at his nightstand and smirked. "A bit presumptuous?"

"Or ambitious," she offered, still laughing.

"Alright, well it's not a _full_ box," he said.

Her brows rose as he cringed. "Oh really?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"Hm, that probably wasn't the right thing to say right now, was it?" They both shook their heads and laughed lightly. "Sorry. I mean, it's _totally_ a new box! I'm a virgin, actually," he lied with a wink.

"A virgin, huh?" she said casually as she strolled up to him. "I suppose that means I should prepare myself for disappointment? Typically, virgins don't really know what they're doing."

"I pick things up fast," he said.

Before she knew what was happening, he'd picked her up and was tossing her onto the bed. She screamed and laughed as he climbed on top of her. He kissed her neck and his hands and arms squeezed around her like he was desperate to keep her beneath him. She was perfectly happy to be there for the time being.

His mouth traveled across her clavicle and then back to her lips. She pulled his bottom lip gently between her teeth. Her hands ran lazily over his back and arms; she loved being able to touch him again.

"I missed you," she mumbled against his lips.

"You have no idea," he whispered back.

He kissed her - her mouth, her neck, her chest, her breasts, her stomach, the small protrusions of her hip bones, and her inner thighs.

His hands ran along the full lengths of her legs as he pulled her underwear down. His calluses scratched lightly at her skin. It was heavenly to feel his touch at all, it didn't matter what part of her he touched, her body singed at all of it.

But, oh, his tongue. And his fingers.

She stretched her arms wide out to her sides and then up above her head. Her back arched and he held her hips, his arms wrapping under her bent legs, as his mouth sent her spiraling towards a fast climax.

She came, tensing beneath his hands before her body relaxed and convulsed. It was a wonderful but short-lived feeling as he began crawling his way up her body. His mouth peppered feather kisses against her skin and his hands worked her legs to wrap around him. He reach up and under her to unclasp her bra. He massaged her then bare torso, groping lightly at her breasts.

"You're amazing," he mumbled against the underside of her breast.

"Me?" she asked laughing. How could he be praising her when he just did _that_ for her?

"You. You're so beautiful."

"Owen," she gasped.

She fought with his weight for a moment, wordlessly trying to convey she wanted to be on top of him. Quickly, they switched positions. He helped her with his boxers as he sat up against the headboard. She kissed the tops of his thighs as she pulled the material down his legs. She straddled him and let her hand trace along the slashes of his scars.

She bent forward and kissed him. His tongue slid quickly into her mouth and she could faintly taste herself. It brought her orgasm back to the forefront of her mind and the desire to make him feel just as good as he made her overcame her.

Slowly, she ran her hand lower and raised herself higher on her knees.

"Claire," he panted. He turned and glanced at the box on the nightstand.

"I'm okay if you are," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he sighed. His eyes were closed and his hand met hers on his shaft, stroking himself in preparation as she guided him. "I just- ya know- I've never not used-"

His words cut off as she lowered herself just enough on his tip. His hands moved quickly and clutched her hips tightly. His eyes opened and locked with hers. A triumphant half-smile crossed her lips at the heady feeling of turning the always slick and smooth, quick-witted Owen Grady speechless.

As slowly as she could manage, she lowered herself further, enveloping him wholly. Their breaths mingled between them and he released a low groan. She watched as his eyes rolled and his lids closed. He let his head fall back, exposing his neck which she quickly pressed her lips against.

Her body, still keyed up from his earlier attention, tightened and her walls contracted briefly around him. He sat up quickly, moaning in response, and wrapped his arms tightly around her back, laughing at his own reaction.

"Oh, God," he said. "This doesn't feel real."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"No, I just mean" - he leaned back against the headboard and placed one of his hands on her face, his fingers curling back into her hair - "I can't believe this is happening."

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. She rocked her hips and began the repetitive movement of raising and lowering herself over him. In a short amount of time, he was holding her waist and kissing her neck. At times he had to support her back as she leaned to another angle. She was losing herself in the indescribable sensations.

He started lifting his hips as she was coming down on him, forcing the last inch or so of his length to enter her at a faster and rougher pace, the result making it feel like he was reaching deeper inside of her.

She desperately tried to refocus. She had meant to make this moment for him - to give him relief like he'd given her - but it would seem that she was fighting a losing battle.

Owen hadn't seemed to mind at all, though. As her movements became less precise and her hands sloppily gripped at his shoulders for purchase, his hold on her grew stronger and the upward movement of his hips harsher until finally he flipped them, awkwardly, to lay sideways on the bed with his body hovering over hers.

He supported himself by his elbows and forearms, his hands laced tightly with hers on either side of her head. He kissed, licked, and sucked on her neck and clavicle as he found a delightfully deliberate pace with his hips.

"Claire," he gasped next to her ear. It made her body hum to hear her name whispered with such reverence and awe.

He released her hands and held himself higher on straight arms. Her hands roamed his arms, the muscles flexed in strain, and over his chest and abdominals.

The pressure in her lower abdomen built quickly. Her walls, already sensitive from her first orgasm, felt numb just before her pulsating release came with a cry from her lips. Owen's pants become soft moans as his thrusts became smoother, faster. He was collapsing on top of her, breathing heavily, only a minute later.

...

They stood in the shower together, Owen behind her with one arm hugging her middle and the other bent over her chest, his hand holding her opposite shoulder. His chin was resting against the side of her neck and occasionally he'd bend to place a kiss against her skin. They stood in silence. Claire leaned her head back against his shoulder and let out a long breath through her nose. There wasn't much room for a lot of movement in the two-by-two tiled stall but neither seemed to be bother by the cramped space.

The steam from the hot water surrounded them and she had a thought - a thought that she shouldn't have had that early in their relationship. She was comfortable - very comfortable. Like, she'd never been that relaxed. And yes she'd just had sex and the endorphins and the waning of her adrenaline might have something to do with the calm bliss she was experiencing, but she thought it might also have something to do with the man standing behind her. On the one hand, it terrified her to be thinking that way. On the other, she was too sated to care.

Why shouldn't she feel that way? He'd already admitted as much to her if not significantly more. Granted, that was two months ago but she didn't think anything had changed for him. Maybe this was what she was _supposed_ to feel like.

Either way, she definitely didn't want to get out of that shower anytime soon.

...

The following day, Owen took her for a long drive on his bike. She was still nervous about riding, but also enjoyed the thrill. He drove them through back roads, his bike maneuvering the rough and muddy terrain surprisingly well. They drove to the lazy river and stopped there for a moment to watch, partially hidden by the trees and brush, as the herbivores drank and ate at the water's edge. They could hear small children squeal in delight as the apatosaurus stretched their long necks over the narrow river for tree leaves on the opposite bank.

Eventually he brought them over to the park's boardwalk where they had lunch outside of a quick grab-and-go sandwich shop.

"So, we go back to work tomorrow," he began casually. Claire nodded and continued chewing the bite of her meal. "Does that mean you'll want to stay at your place tonight?"

"Oh," she said, swallowing. "No, I don't want to." She smiled at her own honesty. "But I will if it's easier for you."

" _Yeah_ , Claire," he began, wiping his hands on a napkin and sitting back in the small bistro chair, "you should know that I'll always prefer you in my bed than not." He smirked.

"Are you suggesting I bring some of my things over?" she asked with a mask of cool and flirty over her sudden nerves.

"Hell, bring everything over. None of it will fit in my place but we can figure that out later," he said with a laugh.

"You want me to move in with you?" she asked carefully with a slow smile.

"Yeah, if you can stomach living in a trailer. And you'll probably have to give up some of your shoes..."

"Well, see, that's a deal breaker," she said in mock seriousness. "This will never work if you keep asking me to give things up for you."

"Alright, you can keep your shoes," he conceded. "I'll have to build an addition that's just your closet."

"The thing we do for those we love," she said dreamily, picking her sandwich back up and taking a bite.

His eyes were on hers for a long moment before the side of his mouth twitched upward. "Really, I'm game for you moving in, but I don't know if you'd be happy in my place. You've complained about it being too small before."

Claire shrugged. "Yeah, but it's grown on me," she replied. "I like that it's away from everyone else. And it's actually a very nice piece of land. You've got great views."

She'd walked out to her car that morning for a phone charger and taken some time to look around. He'd made a nice outdoor area for himself to compensate for the lack of space inside. He had a hammock strung up, with a nice view of the lake and mountains, and a picnic table with string lights overhead by a grill. It was all very rustic and there were things she would change if she were given full creative control but it was definitely all very... _Owen,_ which she found she was very fond of.

"But still, you're not the outdoors type. You'd be more comfortable in your high rise," he said plainly.

"In some ways," she admitted, nodding. "But I'd rather be where you are."

"Well, how about this - we could split our time between my place and yours," he offered. "Then, after a while, decide which one works best?"

"Okay," she agreed, already knowing that they'd end up in his trailer. She wouldn't have the heart to take it away from him. Plus, she knew if she put in an honest effort, she could make the downsizing work. She was already mentally cataloging all the items she could get rid of in her apartment - including, horribly enough, shoes.

She was pulled from her thoughts by him leaning in the short distance to kiss her.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"Because I've missed you. And I'm happy we're here, now," he said softly.

She knew what he meant. It was a relief to finally be together - to have a real relationship with someone who she cared so deeply about, who made her laugh and feel good about herself. She was happy they were there now, too.

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to kiss her again. He smiled against her lips and rested his forearm over the back of her chair. "We're so doing it later," he joked.

She nodded and kissed him again, laughing.

* * *

 **The End.**

 **There is an Epilogue coming. Probably tomorrow.**

 **I'd like to thank everyone once again for all the support you've shown for this story and my writing. You all ROCK! Best readers ever!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Epilogue**

* * *

Barry considered Owen a dear friend. They had real conversations, played basketball (terribly) one-on-one, fished (also terribly), and could almost always tell when the other was lying.

The first time Barry heard about Owen and Claire from Connor Elks he thought it was a joke. And then Claire showed up at the paddock the following day, loudly proclaiming to be breaking up with Owen. It was confusing. Even more confusing was that they quickly got back together and Owen wasn't willing to give very many details.

 _That_ was a red flag, Barry knew. Owen talked about his past girlfriends all the time - usually bemoaning a nagging comment one had made. And when he pressed Owen about Claire, he had only shrugged and smiled.

"She's not something to complain about," he said kindly.

But there was something wrong. Things didn't make sense. They came out as a couple and then two days later broke it off. And then Owen went to see her and suddenly they were together again. He didn't doubt Owen's persuasiveness. He'd seen the man charm plenty of women. But a woman like Claire Dearing wasn't his usual target.

After a few weeks of Owen's evasive answers, Barry's suspicions were running wild. Eventually he came up with a theory that he never expected to be correct.

"You can't tell anyone," Owen warned him firmly.

"Are you _serious?_ " Barry asked in disbelief. "You're _pretending_ to be together?"

"Barry, I'm not joking. No one can know, alright? She'd kill us both. We'd be chopped up to bits and fed to Rex."

"Why are you doing this?" he laughed incredulously. "What's the point of this?"

"It started as a joke and it got a little carried away. It's not a big deal. Just keep it to yourself."

"Why not end it?" he asked.

Owen shrugged. "I don't know. It's kind of fun, I guess."

And so Barry laughed. And he laughed, and he laughed, and he laughed some more. He laughed at his friend up until the point that Claire told him she wanted to end their fake relationship. And then, seeing Owen so agitated by the split, he realized what had happened.

"You fell in love with her, didn't you?" he asked him as they sat together on pub stools, nursing near empty bottles of beer.

"Shut up," Owen grumbled. He swallowed the rest of his beer and slammed the bottle down. " _God damn it!_ "

Barry felt a great deal of sympathy for the man. He'd seen Owen date and lose a handful of women, and most of the time he bounced back quickly. He'd been back to normal a week after The Great Lisa Debacle (Amber's phrase for it, but Barry liked it and often used it). But this was different.

Three weeks after the fake break up, Owen was still snapping at people and in a bad mood. He yelled at some of the techs for not cleaning the floor of the paddock well enough and sent them in for an impromptu clearing. And ten minutes later, Owen was facing down the raptors inside the gates.

At the Med Bay, Barry had a hard time reconciling Claire being there. Owen wouldn't have been there if he hadn't been in such a bad mood and insisted the floor be spotless (because it really wasn't that filthy but Barry hadn't argued with him). And he wouldn't have been in a bad mood if Claire hadn't ended things between them. Or if she had ended things sooner, before he got too attached. Or if she'd recognized Owen's feelings and reciprocated them. So he snapped at her in the waiting room. He was angry and scared that his friend had been hurt and was lying on a hospital bed with three gashes splitting his chest open and he couldn't believe her gall - her stubbornness. She refused to leave and Barry bit his tongue as best he could.

...

Owen told Barry he was going to invite Claire to the bar for his going-away party. Barry wanted to say something about it, to remark that he didn't think it was a good it. Owen was still in love with her - as much as he tried to hide it, Barry knew. Amber knew too but she was smart enough not to ever bring it up. Until that night anyway. As Claire made awkward conversation with people she didn't know all that well, Owen, Barry, and Amber stood together, saying cheers to Owen.

"God, she's fucking gorgeous, isn't she?" Owen said, his words slow from the alcohol. He was watching Claire across the crowd.

"Maybe you should go do something about it?" Amber suggested pointedly.

Barry hid his smirk behind the rim of his bottle and Owen turned to smile at Amber. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I think everyone would," she answered. "Including you."

And later, when she was leaving and saying her goodbyes to Barry and Owen, Amber had told Owen to make his move before it was too late.

But Owen was leaving in two days, and Barry couldn't see what could be done. He looked over to Claire and saw her watching them with a small smile. She'd dressed up - or maybe for her it was dressing down - for the night. She seemed relaxed, but also...sad. There was an air about her, Barry realized, that was a bit depressing.

"You know she told me she wanted something to happen between me and her?" Owen said to him after Amber walked away. "I don't know, man. I still think I might marry that girl one day."

He laughed at himself and Barry smiled at his friend before looking back at Claire. She had left her table and was chatting with another employee.

"You know, I'm really getting sick of you," Barry said to Owen, joking. "I can't wait for you to leave."

"Yeah, I know," Owen said in mock solemn.

"But I think she'll have a pretty hard time with it," he said, pointing discreetly in Claire's direction. Owen looked momentarily confused then thoughtful. Barry rolled his eyes. "Just don't say I never did anything for you," he told him. He got up from the booth and made his way over to the Operations Manager who had stolen his buddy's heart (and mind, it sometimes seemed).

He badgered her into taking Owen home herself and then waited until the following day to hear news from Owen about what happened.

" _I'm an ass, that's what happened_ ," he said over the phone. " _And come to think of it, you are too. No more Fireball_. Ever."

So Barry dropped it, deciding there was nothing more that could happen until Owen came back from his mission.

And then the following morning, when Owen met him outside the control building, he was grinning like a maniac.

"She came over last night," Owen explained.

"Really? And?"

Claire's car rounded the corner, grabbing both men's attention. Owen quickly turned back to Barry. "And she stayed the night then left this morning to change her clothes. And you're not allowed to mention anything about it to her," he said in a rushed, stern whisper.

Barry watched as Owen walked up to her car as she stepped out. She grabbed his hand and lifted herself up on her toes to give him a swift kiss and a smile.

...

There was no way to know just how serious their relationship was going to be. Barry knew of Owen's feelings and had an inkling of the depths of Claire's as they got to know each other better in Owen's absence, but he'd never expected them to come together as fast as they did after Owen returned.

"That's our list," Owen told him as he looked at a piece of paper stuck to his fridge. "We're trying to decide which of our places to live in permanently so we've been writing pros and cons."

Barry read over the notes. Claire had written (her handwriting was much neater than Owen's) that the trailer was more secluded, had better views, the option for outdoor spaces, and was closer to the raptor paddock. Owen had written (in a chicken scratch Barry could barely make out) that Claire's apartment had more space, a bigger bed - _for sex_ , he'd written, and a bigger shower - _for steamy shower sex._

...

"This woman, I tell ya," Owen grumbled as he and Barry laid brick pavers down in a path from Owen's porch to the spot where Claire normally parked her car. "With her fancy shoes and their stupid heels that get stuck in the fucking ground."

"I thought she didn't know we were doing this?" Barry said.

"She doesn't," he said. Claire was in New York for a week attending a conference for Masrani Global. "And I'm beginning to regret deciding to do this." He stretched out his back and grimaced.

"Just think about all the sex you'll get for it," Barry told him. "I, on the other hand, am doing this out of the goodness of my heart."

"And for free pizza and free beer."

"Oh, right. So, I do have something to look forward to," he said, smiling.

...

"You could have picked her place and you wouldn't have to go through this," Barry said as he and Owen watched the truck drive off with the trailer he'd made his home for the better part of six years.

"Yeah, but I would've missed that view," he said, turning to look back at the lake. "Besides, we've got a lot more room out here now anyway." He turned to look back at the newly finished house where his trailer had once stood.

"She's got good taste," Barry said appreciatively. He took in the single story home's impressive craftsman design.

"We knew that," Owen replied as he started walking towards the front porch. "She married me, didn't she?"

...

He'd been angry with InGen and those in charge, including Claire, for the reckless decisions they'd made. Recreating tyrannosauruses and velociraptors had been dangerous enough, creating a hybrid that combined those and a few other large, carnivorous dinosaurs - for a _profit_ , of all things - was just stupid and greedy. Add to that he and Owen hadn't been brought on to the project until after one hybrid _ate_ her sibling, and the lack of available funds to properly care and train the beast, it had been a doomed endeavor from its conception.

He and Owen never stood a chance at establishing a relationship with the Indominus. She was far too aggressive and hadn't had a proactive rearing from birth by a trainer so she didn't trust humans. Still, Owen tried to bond with her. He named her India, or affectionately - and he used that term loosely - Indy ("Golf is technically next, then Hotel. But how can I not name the _Indominus_ Indy?") and they tried to teach her to hunt. She was a skilled tracker, but it quickly became clear to them that she wasn't interested in hunting for food. She enjoyed the chase, and often times played with whatever poor animal they threw in with her, but she wouldn't eat her kill. She still waited for the crane to drop something inside the paddock for her, leaving the carcasses from her hunts all over her paddock.

When Indy escaped by climbing the walls (because surprise! She was bigger than expected) Owen told Claire to send the ACU out with lethal ammunition. She had protested, knowing the money at stake, but at his insistence ("She's heading to the raptors! You send them out now and kill her or everyone else dies! Okay? _Everyone!_ She will not stop. And if she breaks through the paddock and lets the girls loose it'll all be over!") she called in the heavy artillery.

Barry had watched Indy grab a man around the middle and toss him in her mouth. She clamped down on his torso and yanked his leg from his body. There was so much blood. Owen, to his credit, never paused or seemed to bat an eye as he continued firing his rifle. The two of them were crouched down next to the F-150 Owen had adopted as a work vehicle and they were surrounded by other ACU Special Forces vehicles.

Owen and the other men and women around them had military backgrounds and experience in combat. Barry came from zoos and sanctuaries. He'd seen animals get out of control and be put down suddenly and swiftly but that moment wasn't anything like what he'd seen before.

Indy hardly seem to care about the bullets. Most appeared to bounce right off of her. Owen had yelled out for everyone to aim for the softer skin of her underbelly which finally seemed to be doing some damage. She roared in anger and pain and flipped the closest vehicle to her, crushing a man beneath it. It wasn't until someone shot a rocket launcher at her that the terror finally ended.

Only two people died, which Barry counted as some kind of horrific miracle, but dozens were injured.

They set up a makeshift triage center outside the raptor paddock since it was close by. Blue and the other girls chattered excitedly at all the commotion from behind the gates. After Owen made sure Barry was alright and not injured, he climbed the bridge to give the girls a distraction. When Claire arrived, Barry silently pointed to the bridge and watched as she ran to him, her face ghostly white and looking like she was holding back tears. On the bridge, they embraced and held each other for at least as long as he looked at them.

Barry had an estranged wife and a six year old child he suddenly felt like he should reconnect with.

...

He moved to Florida after the incident at the park and brought his family with him from Haiti. He had a job at a zoo in Miami and preferred the lazy tigers to the man eating monsters he'd seen on Isla Nublar.

"You got something in the mail!" his wife called to him from their kitchen. "Looks like it's from the park."

Barry walked through their living room, checking out the window to the backyard where his daughter was playing outside with some friends, and into the kitchen where his wife was sorting through the pile of bills. She tossed a large envelope across the counter at him.

It was heavier than the average piece of mail, but Barry suspected that was mainly caused by the fancy embossed paper the envelope was made of. The stamp in the upper right corner was that of the park's logo. He ignored the uneasy feeling he got at the sight of carnivorous teeth and ripped the back open.

Inside was a personalized postcard from Owen and Claire (mostly Claire, admittedly) wishing him a happy holiday. The picture on the front was that of the happy couple, sitting on the steps of their front porch with their German shepherd, Foxtrot (Fox for short - sometimes Owen called her Mulder to be funny) and their daughter, Juliet, still a small toddler with bright red hair like her mother and the coy smirk of her father.

Barry turned the card over and read Owen's scratchy, near-illegible message:

 _Hey, man,_

 _Claire made us do these super cheesy photos for these dumbass Christmas cards. Women, am I right? Still, you gotta admit I've surrounded myself with some pretty adorable females._

 _Anyway, I hope you're doing okay and are liking the super boring elephants and donkeys or whatever it is you're working with these days. I'm sending along some pictures of the girls. They miss you, too. And one of Golf and Hotel - yeah, man! I finally found a Golf and Hotel!_

 _We're thinking about taking Jules to Disney in a few months and would like to meet up with you if you're up for it. We all miss you, Barry._

 _Love you, man. Happy holidays._

 _Owen and the Grady Bunch._

 _Ps - Amber says "Merry Christmas, Fucknut." Seriously, her words. Not mine._

Barry chuckled and passed the card back to his wife for her to read. He took out the other photographs from inside and flipped through them.

The first was of Juliet, her hands and face scrunched against a small fish tank with two bright yellow fish inside. On the back was Claire's handwritten scrawl: _Juliet, Golf, and Hotel._ Barry laughed and looked at the picture again before flipping to the next.

The next few photos were of the raptors. Blue and Charlie leaping in the air for rats; Echo rolling around in some bushes, her head angled to view the camera; and one of Owen directing the three with the clicker.

They lost Delta to some health problems two years ago. Owen had called to let him know and asked for some advice on how to handle it with the other three.

The last picture was of Owen and Juliet on the bridge. Juliet had her arms wrapped tightly around Owen's neck and had a goofy scowl on her face that closely matched the silly expression Owen was giving. The camera was angled (and clearly taken by Owen as his arm was in the shot) to show the three raptors on the ground below. They were all staring up with cocked heads.

Barry laughed and showed his wife who smiled and chuckled with a shake of her head. He turned to the fridge and affixed the postcard and the last picture to it with magnets.

With his hands on his hips, he looked at the pictures and shook his head. He smiled and marveled at how life had turned out for his very dear friend.


End file.
